UC-NRLF 


';:  IN 


:  .  :  :••  K 


• 

Hi 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


F 


UBRARf 
SCHOOL 


BOOKS  IN  THE  HOUSE 


BOOKS 
THE 
HOUSE 

An  Essay  on  Private  Libra- 
ries and  Collections  for 
Young  and  Old 


By 


ALFRED  W.  POLLARD 


Published  by  arrangement  with 
Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour  by 

The  Bobbs-Merrill  Company 
Indianapolis,  U<  S.  A* 


Copyright  1904 

By 
Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour 


siifilj  t'«J  y   If  UJ 


•; 

Books  in  the  House 
by  Alfred  W.  Pollard 


220(539 


BOORS  IN  THE  HOUSE 

I.  THE  BUYING  OF  BOOKS 

HERE  is  one  sentence, 
and  as  far  as  I  remem- 
ber  only  one,  in  all 
Ruskin's  writings  which 
comes  nigh  to  setting  my 
teeth  on  edge  whenever 
I  read  it — the  sentence  in 
Sesame  and  Lilies,  in 
which  he  asks,  with  reference  to  books,  "Will 
you  go  and  gossip  with  your  housemaid  or  your 
stable-boy  when  you  may  talk  with  queens  and 
kings?"  It  is  not  merely  that  the  implied  slur 
on  the  stable-boy,  who  may  be  a  very  instruc- 
tive person  to  talk  to,  is  a  little  ungenerous,  nor 
even  that  of  all  the  great  writers  of  whom  I 
can  think  there  is  none,  save,  perhaps,  those 
sturdy  republicans  Milton  and  Landor,  to 


whose  style  the  epithet  royal  seems  at  all  fit- 
ting, my  quarrel  with  the  metaphor  is  that 
to  talk  with  kings  and  queens  implies,  at  least 
to  the  imagination,  some  sense  of  aloofness  and 
constraint  even  of  embarrassment,  and  that 
to  conjure  up  this  picture  before  the  eyes  of  a 
timid  reader  is  no  good  service.  Books  may  be 
brothers  and  sisters  to  us,  even  fathers  and 
mothers;  they  may  be  as  schoolmasters  and 
priests,  as  bachelor  uncles,  or  the  golden- 
mouthed  traveller  to  whom  we  listen  at  an  inn 
—but  always,  if  they  are  to  be  of  any  use,  they 
must  be  as  living  friends  or  acquaintances,  and 
the  whole  art  of  forming  and  keeping  a  library 
consists  in  treating  them  on  this  footing,  alike 
mentally  and  materially. 

It  is  true  that  to  acquire  a  new  book  is  not 
so  serious  a  venture  as  to  seek  a  new  friend. 
It  would  be  a  serious  venture,  indeed,  to  say 
that  in  buying  a  book  we  take  on  ourselves  no 
responsibilities.  On  the  contrary,  we  thereby 
enter  into  a  covenant  with  all  the  gods  and 
goddesses  of  literature,  that  so  long  as  that 
book  is  in  our  possession  it  shall  be  decently 
used.  But  save  for  this,  and  for  what  help  we 
can  give  literature  by  a  wise  choice,  the  respon- 
sibility is  mainly  to  ourselves,  and  we  can 
indulge  in  the  luxury  of  being  self-regarding. 

8 


If  we  outgrow  the  book  it  will  not  be  morti- 
fied. If  we  find  we  have  made  a  mistake  we 
have  but  lost  our  money,  though  if  we  allow 
a  bad  failure  to  remain  on  our  shelves,  it  may 
sensibly  lessen  the  pleasure  we  take  in  a  whole 
bookcase*  Yet  the  ideal  of  our  relations  with 
books  remains  unaltered,  even  though  the 
acquisition  of  a  bad  book  of  reference  is  a  less 
misfortune  than  the  hiring  of  a  bad  cook, 
though  an  ill-considered  treatise  on  history  is 
more  easily  changed  than  an  inefficient  pro- 
fessor, and  though  the  novel  or  poem  which 
was  to  have  given  us  a  new  philosophy  of  life 
proves  easier  to  shake  off  than  the  clever  table 
d'hote  talker  when  his  epigrams  have  begun  to 
pall  Mistakes  we  must  surely  make,  but  we 
do  not  want  to  make  more  than  we  need,  lest 
we  grow  discouraged;  while  worse  than  almost 
any  mistake  is  the  failure  to  rise  to  the  con- 
ception of  the  possibilities  which  living  friend- 
ships with  books  may  hold  for  us. 

To  spend  even  a  few  pounds  a  year  on 
books  is  indeed  so  great  a  luxury  that  to  forego 
it  when  the  money  can  honestly  be  spared 
suggests  the  existence  of  asceticism  in  quarters 
where  it  might  least  be  expected.  But  like 
other  luxuries  of  refinement,  book-buying,  to 
be  thoroughly  enjoyed,  needs  not  only  money, 


but  some  little  leisure.  To  buy  a  book  in  a 
hurry  halves  the  pleasure  of  the  purchase.  To 
buy  books  by  the  yard  reduces  the  value  to 
that  o£  the  decorative  effect  of  their  backs  as 
a  substitute  for  wall-paper.  And  yet  the 
temptations  to  buy  books  by  the  yard  are  now 
very  great.  As  the  deacon  in  Salem  Chapel 
(if  any  one  now  knows  that  delightful  book)  ex- 
tolled the  attractiveness  of  a  "coorse"  above 
that  of  the  single  sermon,  so  the  modern  pub- 
lisher believes  in  the  superior  selling-power  of 
the  "  series"  over  that  of  the  single  book,  how- 
ever good.  There  are  many  publishers  now- 
adays, and  to  too  many  of  them  the  manufacture 
of  books  is  as  mechanical  a  business  as  the 
production  of  any  other  article  of  merchandise. 
Like  sheep  they  follow  in  each  other's  tracks, 
and  if  one  firm's  "cheap  line"  in  books  on  sport, 
or  art,  or  short  biographies,  or  popular  re- 
prints, seems  to  be  selling  well,  straightway 
half  a  dozen  others  flood  the  market  with  sim- 
ilar wares,  trying  to  give,  or  to  appear  to  give, 
just  a  little  more  for  the  same  money,  or  to 
charge  just  a  little  less  for  the  same  amount. 
Not  to  be  able  to  "list"  a  series  on  every  sub- 
ject on  which  any  other  publisher  has  produced 
one  would  seem  to  argue  inferiority ;  and  so 
our  new  manufacturers  compete  with  each 

10 


other  merrily,  and  the  man  or  woman  who 
can  get  up  a  subject  quickly,  and  has  a  knack 
for  pleasant  writing,  is  more  in  request  than 
ever  before.  No  doubt  from  this  not  too 
scrupulous  competition  some  good  books 
emerge*  Not  every  contributor  to  a  series 
writes  mainly  for  the  sake  of  his  "pound  a 
thousand/'  There  are  always  one  or  two  con- 
spicuously better  than  the  rest,  and  it  is  the 
business  of  the  book-buyer  to  find  which  these 
are,  and  to  resist  the  temptation  to  fill  his 
shelves  with  long  rows  of  books  all  in  the 
same  jackets.  If  he  is  of  my  way  of  thinking 
he  will  resist  this  temptation  also  when  it 
comes  to  him  in  the  form  of  the  "Collected 
Edition/'  which  lately  has  had  so  much  vogue. 
Just  before  his  death  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
needed  money  for  his  Samoan  estate,  and  an 
ingenious  friend  raised  it  for  him  most  suc- 
cessfully by  persuading  all  the  different  firms 
who  had  published  his  books  to  allow  them 
to  be  printed  uniformly,  in  numerous  volumes, 
in  large  type,  at  a  price  which  yielded  a  hand- 
some profit  to  all  concerned.  Ere  the  issue 
was  completed  came  Stevenson's  death,  and 
with  it  a  wave  of  enthusiasm,  which  sent  the 
collected  edition  to  a  considerable  premium, 
and  thus  started  a  fashion  in  such  things.  That 

ii 


it  gained  money  for  "  R.  L.  S."  covers  many 
sins,  and  I  know  good  Stevensonians  who  sub- 
scribed gladly  for  these  stately  and  monoto- 
nous volumes.  But  not  in  such  as  these  was 
it  that  I  first  read  Virginibus  Puerisque,  The 
Travels  in  the  Cevennes,  and  The  Inland  Voy- 
age; and  the  grandeur  and  uniformity  with 
which  they  are  invested  deprives  them  of  half 
their  flavour  and  all  their  friendliness.  It  is 
like  calling  on  an  old  college  crony,  and  after 
being  handed  on  from  flunky  to  flunky,  finding 
him  in  a  gilded  drawing-room,  surrounded  by 
an  admiring  crowd.  We  might  feel  assured 
that  the  man  himself  was  unaltered,  but  it 
would  be  odd  if  we  gained  the  pleasure  we  had 
anticipated  from  our  chat.  To  buy  a  collected 
edition  of  a  favourite  author  is  to  sacrifice  so 
many  sovereigns  and  so  many  inches  of  shelv- 
ing merely  to  advertise  our  allegiance.  Haply, 
we  may  find  in  it  some  minor  works  hitherto 
unread,  but  to  expect  from  it  a  happy  renewal 
of  old  intimacies  is  vain  indeed. 

I  have  no  love  for  railing,  and  will  forego 
an  intended  tirade  against  the  sumptuous  "art" 
books,  with  whose  splendours  those  who 
lightly  grow  rich  beguile  themselves  at  Christ- 
mas-time. As  the  collected  edition  sometimes 
justifies  itself  by  putting  money  into  the  poc- 

12 


kets  of  authors  whose  early  work  was  scantily 
paid,  so  these  barbaric  volumes  occasionally 
enable  a  real  student  to  find  a  publisher  for  a 
monograph  which  would  otherwise  go  un- 
written. The  student  may  feel  rather  sadly 
that  his  cherished  theories  will  never  here  meet 
the  eyes  of  the  readers  whom  he  would  like 
to  convert  and  Charles  Lamb  would  certainly 
have  classed  these  editions  among  his  books 
that  are  no  books,  but  we  need  not  quarrel 
with  them  too  fiercely  for  all  that.  It  is  a 
pleasanter  task  to  remind  those  who  set  apart 
a  few  pounds  a  year  for  book-buying  how  much 
they  may  do  to  encourage  good  literature  of 
their  own  day.  To  buy  the  first  editions  of 
modern  authors  after  they  have  made  their  rep- 
utations is  an  agreeable  by-way  of  book-col- 
lecting. To  have  bought  them  when  the 
reputations  were  still  to  make  would  have 
given  us  a  share,  however  small,  in  the  delight 
of  their  success.  To  be  on  the  lookout  for  new 
authors  and  buy  their  early  books  may  load  our 
shelves  with  some  promises  which  will  never 
be  fulfilled,  but  unless  our  judgment  be  very 
faulty,  in  some  of  our  purchases  we  shall  an- 
ticipate the  popular  verdict,  and  even  a  few 
hits  may  console  us  for  some  wasted  silver. 
In  the  matter  of  praise,  young  writers  nowa- 

13 


days  receive  almost  too  much  encouragement. 
The  much-maligned  reviewer  is  always  on  the 
watch  for  the  appearance  of  a  new  genius,  and 
eager  to  proclaim  his  discovery  of  it.  But  the 
young  writer  needs  patrons  who,  as  Herrick 
sang  of  Endymion  Porter,  will  "not  only  praise, 
but  pay  them,  too/'  and  it  is  extraordinary  how 
few  of  these  patrons  there  be,  even  when  the 
patronage  desired  is  no  more  than  the  expen- 
diture of  a  five-shilling  piece  or  less*  Men 
whose  names  are  well  known  to  all  literary 
people,  and  gossip  about  whom  good  newspa- 
pers are  glad  to  insert,  often  receive  less  than 
a  ten-pound  note  in  royalties  on  a  new  book, 
and  it  is  small  wonder  if  so  many  of  them  pass 
over  from  the  ranks  of  literature  to  those  of 
journalism.  That  many  of  them  should  so  pass 
is,  no  doubt,  well.  Good  journalists  are  better 
than  second  or  third  rate  men  of  letters.  But 
it  is  not  by  any  means  certain  that  it  is  always 
the  third-rate  men  who  go.  We  upbraid  Irish- 
men sometimes  for  their  lack  of  energy,  their 
disinclination  to  help  themselves,  whereas  we 
should  rather  wonder  that,  when  for  so  many 
generations  the  bravest  and  most  adventurous 
have  sought  their  fortunes  abroad,  so  much 
virtue  has  still  remained  in  the  stock.  And  from 
the  Green  Island  of  literature  it  is  not  the 

14 


dreamers  who  can  never  realise  their  dreams, 
nor  the  polishers  of  cherry-stones  that  go  forth 
each  year  to  the  New  World  of  newspapers, 
it  is  the  men  who  can  at  least  write  clearly  and 
have  something  to  say,  and  it  is  deplorable  that 
the  difficulty  of  earning  from  literature  an  in- 
come on  which  a  family  can  be  maintained  is 
so  extreme  that  many  promising  writers  aban- 
don the  attempt  altogether,  or  regard  their 
occasional  attempts  to  write  a  good  book  as  a 
luxury  for  which  their  children's  education  has 
to  suffer.  If  readers  were  more  adventurous 
and  less  niggardly  we  might  hope  for  better 
things.  There  is  no  question  here  of  confining 
ourselves  to  what  Ruskin  called  the  "  talk  of 
kings  and  queens,"  or  substituting  at  one 
effort  Marius  the  Epicurean  for  The  Manx- 
man. But  we  enjoy  any  game  of  skill  most 
thoroughly  when  our  playmate  is  strong 
enough  to  put  us  on  our  mettle,  and  surely  in 
the  noble  game  of  literature  we  should  match 
ourselves,  not  with  the  authors  whose  plane  of 
thought  is  no  higher  than  our  own,  but  with 
those  who  carry  us  at  least  a  few  yards  nearer 
to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

If  by  buying  a  few  good  books  each  year  we 
may  help  to  make  literature  a  more  possible 
profession,  we  may  use  our  shillings  also  to 

'5 


improve  the  externals  of  book  -  production. 
Book-buyers  who  do  not  confine  their  pur- 
chases entirely  to  the  fortnight  before  Christ- 
mas soon  get  on  friendly  terms  with  their 
book-sellers,  and  a  refusal  to  buy  a  book  on 
the  ground  that  the  type  is  bad  or  badly  printed, 
or  the  paper  unpleasantly  heavy  or  brittle,  will 
very  quickly  be  reported  to  the  offending  pub- 
lisher's traveller,  and  conveyed  by  him  to 
headquarters.  The  types  used  in  British  and 
American  books  of  the  day  are,  mostly  at  least, 
fairly  good,  but  the  press-work  is  often  far 
from  satisfactory;  and  more  especially  when  a 
book  has  achieved  an  unexpected  success  pub- 
lishers are  tempted  to  have  a  cast  made  from 
the  type  after  one  or  more  editions  have  been 
printed  from  it,  and  the  later  editions  printed 
from  this  cast  present  an  appearance  against 
which  a  book-buyer  has  a  right  to  protest. 
As  for  modern  paper,  between  the  desire  for 
cheapness  and  the  need  of  an  absolutely 
smooth  surface  for  printing  some  of  the  pro- 
cess blocks  used  for  the  illustrations  with 
which  many  books  are  now  foolishly  over- 
crowded, it  is  in  a  bad  way.  As  good  paper  is 
now  made  as  at  any  previous  time,  and  if  it 
is  sufficiently  heavily  rolled  it  can  take  a  sur- 
face from  which  any  block  can  be  printed; 

16 


but  wood-pulp  and  esparto  grass  are  much 
cheaper  than  rags,  and  the  smooth  surface 
more  cheaply  obtained  by  loading  the  mixture 
with  clay  than  by  rolling,  hence  the  multi- 
tude of  books  too  heavy  to  be  held  in  the 
hand,  which  it  is  dangerous  to  read  in  bright 
sunlight,  lest  the  paper  turn  brown,  or  whose 
leaves  are  so  brittle  that  they  can  never  be 
properly  sewn  for  binding.  Against  these  evils 
book-buyers  can  exercise  a  perfectly  legitimate 
influence;  and  they  might  even  help  to  bring 
about  a  revival  of  the  now  almost  lost  art  of 
wood-engraving,  if  they  would  but  express  a 
little  weariness  of  the  meretricious  brilliancies 
of  the  process  block. 

But  the  books  and  reprints  of  to-day  are  not 
the  only  ones  to  be  considered  when  once  we 
begin  book-buying.  To  acquire  the  very  first 
editions  of  famous  English  books  needs  a  long 
purse,  but  a  library  of  editions  which  the 
authors  themselves,  or  at  least  their  younger 
friends,  might  have  handled  is  a  much  more 
modest  affair,  yet  from  the  literary  standpoint 
almost,  if  not  quite,  as  interesting.  Sometimes 
they  are  better  printed  and  on  better  paper 
than  modern  reprints;  even  where  they  are  not 
so  good  they  bring  with  them  the  Old  World 
flavour,  and  we  feel  in  closer  touch  with  the 

b  ,7 


authors.  In  a  copy  of  the  second  edition  of  the 
Confessions  of  an  English  Opium -Eater, 
which  I  bought  the  other  day  for  55.  (its  full 
market  value),  there  are  advertisements  at  the 
end,  of  Elia,  Carey's  Dante,  Lamia,  Isa- 
bella, The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  Hyperion,  and 
other  poems  by  John  Keats,  author  of  Endy- 
mion,  Endymion  itself,  and  three  books  by 
William  Hazlitt  To  most  of  the  advertise- 
ments contemporary  press  notices  are  ap- 
pended. As  it  lies  before  me  in  its  faded  paste- 
board covers,  the  book  really  takes  me  back  to 
1823,  and  gives  a  sense  of  nearness  toDe  Quin- 
cey  and  Lamb  and  Keats  and  Hazlitt  which 
no  modern  reprint  can  inspire.  Truly  there  is 
joy  to  be  found  in  the  old  bookshop,  and 
though  dealers'  catalogues,  to  one  whose  busi- 
ness it  is  to  try  to  read  them  all,  become  a 
little  wearisome,  the  potentialities  of  purchase 
which  they  offer  are  very  alluring.  In  buying 
these  old  editions  book-lovers  will  do  well 
to  think  only  of  their  own  tastes  and  means, 
without  attempting  to  make  bargains.  If  you 
don't  want  to  read  an  old  book,  or  if  it  is  not 
clean  and  sound  enough  to  be  read  with  pleas- 
ure, don't  buy  it  because  you  have  heard  of 
other  copies  selling  at  a  much  higher  price. 
Leave  it  for  the  collector,  or,  better  still,  for  a 

18 


fellow  book -lover  whose  tastes  lie  in  this 
direction.  If  you  think  only  of  what  a  book  is 
worth  to  you  personally  there  can  be  no  dis- 
appointments, and  in  the  end  you  will  probably 
find  that  some  bargains  have  come  your  way. 
In  all  that  has  so  far  been  written  we  have 
had  in  view  the  purchase  of  books  for  the 
buyer's  personal  pleasure.  If  the  owner  of  a 
country  house  wishes  to  have  a  library  in  it 
which  shall  be  a  pleasure  to  his  visitors  as  well 
as  to  himself,  advice  is  more  difficult,  and  if 
he  has  built  a  new  library  and  placed  book- 
cases all  round  it,  and  is  in  a  hurry  to  fill  them, 
advice  is  very  difficult  indeed.  Of  course  he 
may  go  to  a  good  bookseller  and  have  his 
shelves  filled  for  him— by  the  yard,  as  afore- 
said—just as  he  may  go  to  a  good  furniture- 
shop  and  have  his  drawing-room  furnished  in 
any  style  which  happens  to  be  fashionable. 
But  the  library  which  does  not  reflect  its 
owner's  individuality  is  but  a  poor  thing,  while 
one  which  is  a  generous  extension  of  a  col- 
lection of  personal  favourites  gives  a  pleasant 
atmosphere  to  the  whole  house.  Surely  the 
books  should  come  first,  and  the  bookcases  as 
need  arises.  Leave  spaces  round  the  wall  for 
new  bookcases,  O  library-builder,  and  take  time 
in  filling  them.  It  may  be  that  your  desires  are 

19 


purely  altruistic,  for  it  is  quite  possible  to  be  a 
good  fellow  and  a  good  talker  and  a  man  of 
parts,  and  yet  not  to  get  your  wit  from  books, 
or  to  care  over-much  for  reading  them.  In  that 
case  think  of  the  friends  for  whose  pleasure 
you  would  provide,  and  ask  them  to  help  you 
in  their  favourite  subjects.  Far  better  is  it  to 
seek  aid  from  a  friend  than  from  a  tradesman. 
There  may  be  some  incongruities  in  the  books 
thus  brought  together,  but  there  will  be  no 
harm  in  that,  and  the  library  will  reflect  your 
individuality  through  that  of  your  friends.  If 
none  of  your  friends  can  help,  you  may  then 
have  recourse  to  the  tradesman,  or,  better  still, 
save  your  money.  For  to  buy  books  with  the 
certainty  that  you  have  not  even  a  friend  who 
will  read  them  is  surely  as  discourteous  to  the 
authors  as  to  ask  a  musician  to  play  to  an  audi- 
ence who  will  not  stop  talking  to  hear  him. 


II.  INHERITED  BOOKS  AND  THEIR 
VALUES 

F,  as  was  suggested  in  our 
last  paper,  to  try  to  form 
a  library  in  a  hurry  leads 
to  disaster,  to  inherit  one 
ready-made  is  by  no 
means  always  a  blessing* 
When  the  original  col- 
lector has  been  a  man 
of  some  literary  taste,  or  a  genuine  antiquary, 
the  inheritance  is  likely  to  be  both  valuable 
and  (to  a  worthy  descendant)  delightful. 
But  the  books  which  have  accumulated  in 
the  library  of  a  succession  of  intelligent 
country  gentlemen,  or  city  merchants,  who 
just  read  and  bought  the  books  which  their 
neighbours  were  reading  and  buying,  but 
kept  them  more  carefully,  are  apt,  when 
critically  examined,  to  present  a  sadly  forlorn 

21 


appearance,  more  especially  after  even  a  few 
years  of  neglect*  There  will  be  a  general 
impression  of  decaying  leather  and  dusty 
tops,  and  a  first  perusal  of  the  book- 
labels  (where  they  have  not  fallen  off)  may  re- 
veal nothing  more  exciting  than  volumes  of  the 
classics  with  Latin  notes,  Langhorne's  trans- 
lation of  Plutarch,  Johnson's  Lives  of  the 
Poets,  Gibbon's  Roman  Empire,  and  some 
sermons.  The  books  occupy  the  only  room  in 
the  house  which  is  available  for  a  library;  to 
mix  modern  ones  with  them  seems  incongru- 
ous, even  if  there  are  spaces  on  the  shelves,  and 
the  room  looks  so  dull  that  no  one  cares  to  sit 
in  it.  The  owner's  first  impulse  may  very  well 
be  to  sell  the  whole  collection  as  waste  paper, 
but  as  he  looks  at  the  books  again  he  notes  that 
some  of  them  are  of  dates  a  good  deal  earlier 
than  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
that  here  and  there  is  a  volume  printed  in  old- 
fashioned  types,  or,  haply,  if  the  owner  is  an 
American,  bearing  local  imprints  which  show 
that  his  great-grandfather  did  not  import  all 
his  books  from  England,  but  encouraged  the 
printer  of  his  own  country  as  well  The  idea 
occurs  to  him  that  old  books  are  sometimes 
valuable,  occasionally  very  valuable  indeed, 
and  he  wonders  if  any  of  these  are  among 

22 


them,  and  how  he  is  to  find  out.  The  book- 
seller with  whom  he  usually  deals  is  a  worthy 
man,  but  not  patently  learned.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  ask  one  of  the  chief  bookselling  firms 
of  London,  New  York,  or  Chicago,  to  send  an 
expert  to  examine  a  collection  which  may  be 
all  rubbish  seems  rather  absurd,  and  if  the 
examination  is  to  be  with  a  view  to  purchase, 
unsatisfactory,  while  the  owner  himself  is  so 
ignorant  of  what  he  is  selling.  Moreover,  some 
of  the  books  may  have  some  personal  links 
with  former  members  of  his  family,  and  as  to 
the  regard  to  be  paid  to  these,  a  bookseller's 
advice  is  not  to  the  point. 

The  picture  here  drawn  is  by  no  means  im- 
aginary, and  human  nature  being  what  it  is, 
there  is  perhaps  no  great  cause  for  surprise 
that  owners  sometimes  resort  to  strange  shifts 
to  obtain  some  expert  advice  without  paying 
for  it.  A  plan  very  commonly  pursued  is  to 
get  some  not  highly  educated  person  to  make 
a  list  of  the  books  with  their  dates,  and  to  ask 
the  nearest  librarian  of  a  public  library,  as  a 
part  of  the  work  he  may  reasonably  be  ex- 
pected to  do,  to  look  through  the  list  and  say 
if  any  of  the  books  in  it  are  valuable.  This  is, 
no  doubt,  inexpensive,  but  not  entirely  satis- 
factory. The  librarian  has  an  uneasy  feeling 


that  he  is  preventing  some  bookseller  from 
earning  a  fee  to  which  he  has  a  right;  he  is 
mostly  quite  sufficiently  occupied  with  his  own 
work,  and  he  has  learnt  by  frequent  experience 
that  should  any  of  the  books  on  the  list  be 
desirable  acquisitions  for  his  own  library,  it  is 
practically  certain  that  any  other  offer  will  be 
preferred  to  his.  The  owner  of  a  book  who 
asks  for  gratuitous  advice  as  to  its  value  seems 
always  to  think  it  necessary  to  represent  his  in- 
quiry as  a  mere  matter  of  curiosity,  the  book 
being  so  dear  to  him  that  no  price  would  in- 
duce him  to  part  with  it.  The  mood  is  often 
curiously  evanescent,  but  dignity  demands  that 
it  should  be  maintained  in  the  case  of  the 
person  to  whom  it  is  stated,  and  so  the  book 
is  sold  elsewhere,  and  the  librarian  feels  an- 
noyed. For  this  reason  members  of  the  staff  of 
many  large  libraries  are  strictly  forbidden  to 
give  any  estimate  as  to  the  value  of  books 
shown  to  them,  nor  is  the  prohibition  un- 
reasonable. Even  when  the  owner  is  un- 
usually frank  and  confesses  to  an  intention  of 
selling,  librarians  would  far  rather  that  he 
would  take  his  books  in  the  first  instance 
elsewhere,  instead  of  worrying  them  into 
making  an  offer  and  using  this  as  a  lever  to 
extort  more  from  the  trade  to  whom  a  libra- 

24 


rian's  willingness  to  give  a  hundred  dollars  for 
a  book  is  often  a  certificate  which  prompts 
a  sporting  offer  of  a  hundred  and  five* 

After  all  if  books  that  have  long  been  har- 
boured in  a  house  are  to  be  sold  away  from  it, 
piety  demands  that  they  should  first  pass  be- 
neath their  owner's  eye,  nor  need  the  process 
be  very  lengthy  or  unpleasant.  An  indispensa- 
ble preliminary  is  that  the  books  should  be 
dusted,  and  if  they  are  very  dirty  it  is  well  to 
do  this  in  the  open  air.  Their  fate  will  also  be 
much  more  favourably  considered  if  before  the 
inspection  the  parched  leather  of  their  bind- 
ings is  lightly  rubbed  with  ordinary  furniture 
polish,  and  then  quickly  dried  with  a  clean  rag, 
or  old  silk  handkerchief.  By  this  simple  process 
dirt  which  seemed  ingrained  is  removed,  and 
the  old  bindings  not  only  recover  much  of  their 
brilliancy,  but  are  given  a  new  lease  of  life. 

When  the  books  come  up  for  inspection  the 
owner  will  not  find  it  difficult  to  get  a  rough 
idea  of  their  value  if  he  keep  one  or  two  gen- 
eral principles  in  mind.  The  first  of  these  is 
that  (despite  the  existence  of  the  word  biblio- 
mania, and  the  fact  that  room  has  always  been 
found  for  book-buyers  in  the  Ship  of  Fools) 
folly  and  book-buying  do  not  generally  go 
together.  Sebastian  Brant's  Book -Fool  was 


the  man,  not  who  wasted  good  money  on 
worthless  books,  but  who  could  not  or  would 
not  read  the  good  books  he  bought*  In  this 
sense  there  are  plenty  of  book-fools  still 
among  us;  but  though  the  price  of  a  rare  book 
may  occasionally  be  driven  up  to  some  mon- 
strous sum  by  the  competition  of  two  million- 
aires, book  prices  as  a  rule  are  determined  by 
quite  reasonable  and  obvious  causes.  Of  these 
mere  rarity,  though  under  certain  circum- 
stances it  plays  a  very  important  part,  is  not  one 
of  the  most  immediate.  It  would  be  an  interest- 
ing question,  indeed,  to  determine  whether 
dull  books  are  more  likely,  or  less,  to  be  pre- 
served than  good  or  lively  ones.  They  run  no 
risk  of  being  thumbed  to  pieces,  but  it  is  to 
no  man's  interest  to  preserve  them,  and  per- 
haps the  one  consideration  balances  the  other. 
Whether  it  is  so  or  not  will  never  be  known, 
for  in  the  case  of  really  dull  books  no  one  is 
tempted  to  ascertain  whether  they  are  rare  or 
not.  Could  it  be  proved  beyond  dispute  that 
every  other  copy  had  perished,  the  solitary  sur- 
vivor of  a  whole  edition  might  still  remain 
unsalable.  Even  books  which,  far  from  being 
dull  but  which  on  the  contrary  possess  many 
points  of  interest,  both  historical  and  literary, 
have  their  value  only  slightly  enhanced  by 

26 


rarity  unless  they  are  of  a  kind  which  sorts 
with  the  fashion  of  the  day  among  collectors* 
An  extraordinary  instance  of  this  may  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  a  well-known  London  book- 
seller, Mr.  Wilfrid  Voynick,  has  for  over  a 
year  been  offering  for  $20,000  a  collection  of 
over  one  hundred  and  sixty  books  of  editions 
of  early  date,  of  not  one  of  which  has  any  one 
else  produced  another  copy.  The  books  are 
not  only  unique  ( so  far  as  the  word  can  ever 
safely  be  used ),  but  interesting  in  all  sorts  of 
ways,  so  that  the  possession  of  them  would 
add  distinction  to  any  library  in  the  world. 
Yet  apparently  in  the  eyes  of  the  bookmen 
who  are  rich  enough  to  back  their  opinion 
their  extreme  rarity  does  not  bring  up  their 
selling  value  to  $125  apiece.  Age,  again,  is  a 
much  less  potent  factor  in  price  than  is  usually 
believed.  As  regards  English  books,  it  can 
hardly  be  said  to  exercise  much  influence  after 
1640,  or  on  a  generous  estimate  twenty  years 
later,  the  date  of  the  Restoration.  Possibly  the 
publication  of  Mr.  Arber's  reprint  of  the 
Term-Catalogues  may  bring  down  the  limit  to 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  At  pres- 
ent it  is  fixed  by  the  fact  that  the  British  Mu- 
seum, the  Cambridge  University  Library,  and 
the  John  Ryland's  Library  have  all  published 

27 


catalogues  of  English  books  printed  before 
1641.  As  soon  as  an  idea  is  formed  of  a  col- 
lection of  all  the  known  books  of  the  period, 
it  becomes  interesting  to  add  to  this,  and  hence 
the  dull  book  printed  in  1620  has  a  distinctly 
higher  value  than  the  equally  dull  book  printed 
fifty  years  later*  The  value,  though  higher,  is 
not  high.  If  clean  and  in  good  condition,  an 
English  book  printed  before  1641  would  hardly 
be  marked  in  any  dealer's  catalogue  at  less 
than  five  shillings,  and  this  may  be  taken  to 
be  the  value  conferred  by  three  centuries  of 
antiquity,  without  any  other  advantage.  When 
we  get  back  to  the  sixteenth  century  the  merit 
of  mere  age  is  reinforced  by  the  fact  that,  for 
every  score  of  years  we  recede,  we  get  into  a 
distinctly  more  interesting  period  of  English 
printing,  so  that,  taking  the  value  of  the  dullest 
conceivable  book  of  1610  as  five  shillings,  this 
might  fairly  be  doubled  for  each  twenty  years 
we  recede.  I  do  not  think  any  bookseller 
would  ask  less  than  ten  shillings  for  an  English 
book  printed  in  1590,  or  than  a  pound  for  one 
of  1570,  or  the  corresponding  prices  of  2!.,  4!,, 
8L,  for  books  of  1550,  1530,  1510.  When  we 
work  back  to  the  fifteenth  century  the  rise  in 
value  is  very  marked  and  rapid*  Hardly  any 
English  fifteener  would  fetch  less  than  a 

28 


hundred  pounds,  and  there  are  very  few  which 
would  fetch  so  little.  Printers  abroad  having 
begun  earlier,  and  been  far  more  prolific  than 
those  who  worked  in  England,  the  dullest  for- 
eign books  will  only  fetch  about  the  same 
prices  as  English  ones  of  some  thirty  years 
later.  As  for  books  printed  in  America,  it 
would  be  rash  for  an  Englishman  to  attempt 
to  offer  a  similarly  precise  rule  of  thumb,  and 
it  may  be  doubted  indeed  whether  the  mate- 
rials for  it  yet  exist.  Some  day,  perchance,  it 
will  enter  into  the  mind  of  an  American  bib- 
liographer to  produce  a  catalogue  similar  to  the 
British  ones  for  the  period  1476-1640,  just 
mentioned.  Whether  such  a  list  of  "Books 
printed  in  the  United  States  of  America  and 
books  by  American  authors  printed  in  Eng- 
land" will  take  as  its  limit  date  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  or  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  or  even  some  still  later 
year,  remains  to  be  seen,  but  it  may  safely 
be  foretold  that  five  years  after  that  cata- 
logue is  published  the  dullest  books  printed 
in  the  last  decade  it  covers  will  be  worth  from 
fifty  cents  to  a  dollar,  and  that  it  will  be  easy 
from  this  starting-point  to  move  back  con- 
stantly increasing  values  as  I  have  ventured  to 
do  in  the  case  of  English  books. 


So  much  for  the  unaided,  or  nearly  unaided, 
influences  of  age  and  rarity,  the  two  qualities 
for  which  it  is  commonly  believed  that  col- 
lectors are  ready  to  pay  most  highly.  Of  the 
existence  of  the  three  other  cardinal  elements 
in  book  values — artistic  interest,  literary  in- 
terest, historical  interest — the  possession  of  an 
average  amount  of  cultivation  ought  to  enable 
the  chance  possessor  of  a  book  to  form  some 
idea,  not  indeed  as  to  how  much  a  book  is 
worth,  but  as  to  whether  it  is  worth  anything 
at  all  A  handsome  piece  of  printing  is  worth 
buying  at  any  time*  It  is  natural  (though  not 
always  wise)  to  prefer  illustrated  books  to 
unillustrated  ones,  and  those  with  borders, 
initials,  or  other  embellishments  to  those  with- 
out them.  All  these  things  are  elements  in 
price.  The  market  value  of  literary  interest  need 
hardly  be  dwelt  on.  An  interesting  book,  as 
was  suggested  in  our  last  article,  becomes  more 
interesting  when  read  in  an  edition  of  the  au- 
thor's own  date,  and  first  editions  of  famous 
works  are  always  prized.  There  is  an  interest  in 
subjects,  moreover,  as  well  as  in  authors  and  lit- 
erary form.  In  an  essay  which  is  to  appear  at 
Chicago  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  all 
early  volumes  of  travel,  or  descriptions  of  the 
world,  which  contain  references  to  America, 

30 


fetch  fancy  prices.  Books  on  sports  and  pas- 
times, on  manners  and  occupations,  more 
especially  when  they  relate  to  our  creature 
comforts,  as  in  the  case  of  cookery-books,  are 
at  one  end  of  the  scale,  and  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  old  books  on  theology,  unless  by  famous 
authors,  occupy  the  other.  On  the  other  hand, 
all  prae-Reformation  service-books  and  Bibles, 
and  Prayer-books  printed  before  the  sixteenth 
century  reached  its  fourth  quarter,  when  in 
good  condition,  fetch  high  prices.  The  fingers 
of  faithful  readers  have  worn  out  the  majority 
of  copies,  and  the  few  that  survive  in  the  con- 
dition which  collectors  appreciate  are  valued 
accordingly.  As  we  have  said  already,  rarity  by 
itself  counts  for  little,  but  rarity  as  a  discrimi- 
nating quality  between  one  desirable  book  and 
another  has  immense  influence.  The  famous 
Nuremberg  Chronicle,  with  its  countless  pic- 
tures, varies  in  price,  according  to  condition, 
from  $50  to  $200;  the  Hypnerotomachia  Poli- 
phili,  the  most  famous  of  Venetian  books, 
fetches  at  most  only  about  $600;  we  hold  up 
our  hands  in  amazement  when  the  1623  folio 
of  Shakespeare's  plays  is  sold  for  over  $8,500. 
Considering  the  intrinsic  interest  of  these  three 
books  all  these  prices  are  relatively  small,  be- 
cause, judged  by  the  usual  standards  of  rarity, 


these  books  are  relatively  common.  When 
there  is  only  one  perfect  copy  of  the  1623 
Shakespeare  which  can  come  into  the  market 
it  should  fetch  $50,000.  It  is  on  this  question 
of  rarity  that  expert  advice  can  hardly  be  dis- 
pensed with,  though  an  energetic  owner  may 
do  much  for  himself  with  the  aid  of  some 
volumes  of  Mr.  Slater's  Bookprices  Current 
or  Mr.  Luther  Livingston's  companion  work 
on  American  Book  Prices,  in  which  the  prices 
of  all  (or  most)  books  which  have  fetched 
more  than  $50  at  a  London  or  New  York 
salesroom  are  recorded  year  by  year.  But  the 
simple  notes  here  offered  should  at  least  en- 
able the  possessor  of  old  books  to  pick  out 
from  his  shelves  those  which  have  the  pri- 
mary elements  of  value,  and  on  these  any  good 
book-seller  will  give  an  opinion  at  a  moderate 
fee,  though  he  will  be  found  fully  able  to 
cope  with  any  of  the  simple-hearted  devices 
employed  to  extract  that  opinion  for  nothing. 
As  to  what  should  be  sold  and  what  kept, 
the  one  sovereign  test  is  that  of  replaceability. 
An  owner  who  does  not  care  for  eighteenth- 
century  history,  or  politics,  or  theology,  if  the 
volumes  containing  them  differ  in  no  respect 
from  others  in  the  old  bookshops,  may  well 
set  his  shelves  free  for  occupants  more  to  his 

3* 


taste.  To  resign  one's  self  to  keeping  a  book 
permanently  without  any  expectation  of  be- 
ing tempted  to  read  it  is  as  little  to  the  world's 
benefit  as  the  owner's.  There  should  be  no 
mausoleums  for  books  save  in  the  British 
Museum  and  the  Library  of  Congress.  So 
long  as  they  are  saleable  as  more  than  waste 
paper  there  must  be  some  one  waiting  to  read 
them,  to  whom  we  are  acting  dog-in-the- 
manger.  When  the  waste -paper  stage  is 
reached,  the  book  must  resign  itself  to  its 
metempsychosis. 

But  if  a  book  be  not  easily  replaceable,  then 
there  is  surely  room  for  second  thought  ere  it 
be  turned  out  of  its  home.  A  valuable  book 
cannot  easily  be  found  on  the  shelves  of  an 
old  library  without  being  evidence  of  some 
ancestor's  foresight  literary  taste,  or  as  a  col- 
lector, and  to  banish  this  evidence  from  the 
family  archives  seems  hard  measure.  Such 
books,  more  especially  such  as  bear  marks  of 
ownership,  if  they  are  once  dispersed,  though 
they  be  replaced  by  other  copies,  will  never 
come  back  again  with  the  same  associations; 
and  they  should  be  parted  with  as  reluctantly 
as  any  other  heirlooms. 


33 


III.    THE  KEEPING  OF  BOOKS 

IKE  human  beings,  books 
have  two  methods  of 
protection  against  damp 
and  dirt— their  bindings, 
or  clothes,  and  the  book- 
cases and  library  build- 
ings, which  answer  to  our 
houses.  The  relative  im- 
portance of  these  two  defences  has  varied 
with  changing  conditions.  In  modern  Europe 
specially  built  libraries  date  from  about  the 
end  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Before  that 
time  cupboards  in  the  stone  walls  of  cloisters 
housed  the  majority  of  books,  and  even  when 
they  were  in  use,  in  the  hands  of  monks  sit- 
ting at  their  cloister  "carrills,"  or  in  the 
draughty  rooms  of  private  houses,  they  must 
have  been  exposed  to  many  vicissitudes  of 
damp  and  heat  and  cold.  Hence  most  early 

35 


bindings  that  have  come  down  to  us  are 
notably  substantial  Metal  bindings,  it  is  true, 
were  used  chiefly,  if  not  exclusively,  for  large 
service-books  in  the  possession  of  rich  churches. 
But  the  earliest  leather  bindings  and  half-bind- 
ings have  mostly  wooden  sides,  and  when 
wood  was  superseded  by  pasteboard  the  sides 
were  still  made  thick  and  strong.  Further 
to  protect  their  contents,  it  was  usual  for 
bindings  to  have  clasps  or  ties,  and  in  Italy 
these  were  often  placed  not  only  across  the 
fore-edge,  but  at  the  top  and  bottom  as 
well  Thus  tightly  clasped,  the  thick  paper 
or  vellum  of  old  books  was  safe  against 
most  accidents;  and  when  it  is  remembered 
that  precious  volumes  were  often  carried 
in  a  satchel,  or  case,  for  additional  protec- 
tion, there  is  nothing  incredible  in  the  stories 
of  books  having  been  dropped  in  the  sea, 
like  the  Lindisfarne  Gospels,  or  in  a  river, 
as  with  Queen  Margaret's  Gospels,  without 
suffering  any  more  serious  damage  than  a 
stain  near  the  edges.  Since  the  fourteenth 
century  the  binding  of  books  has  been  con- 
tinually getting  lighter,  until  we  have  reached 
the  "leatherette,"  or  whatever  the  material 
is  called,  which  clothes  the  modern  "pocket 
edition,"  but  would  certainly  not  clothe  it 

36 


for  long  were   pocket  editions  ever  carried 
in  the  pocket. 

Despite  the  tendency  to  lightness,  good 
bindings  remain  the  best  protection  a  book 
can  have,  and  a  few  words  may  be  said  as  to 
their  use  and  abuse.  Perhaps  the  first  warn- 
ing to  be  given  is  that  bindings  are  expensive, 
and  that  in  more  ways  than  one.  One  of  the 
charms  of  a  binding  is  that  it  is  the  most 
obvious  means  of  imposing  on  a  book  its 
owner's  individuality,  of  making  his  copy 
differ  from  every  other  copy.  This,  however, 
tells  both  ways.  If  the  new  jacket  which  we 
give  to  a  book  only  marks  our  own  bad  taste, 
or  that  of  the  jobbing  bookbinder  we  employ, 
the  result  will  naturally  be  unsatisfactory,  more 
particularly  if  we  have  allowed  the  jobbing 
binder  to  shave  the  margins  and  thus  ruin  the 
appearance  of  the  book  and  also  its  market 
value.  The  most  extreme  instance  of  this 
cropping  I  know  of  is  that  of  a  copy  of  Blake's 
Songs  of  Innocence,  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Locker-Lampson,  of  which  he  plaintively  re- 
corded that  a  previous  owner  had  cut  it  down 
to  fit  into  the  cover  of  an  old  washing-book ; 
but,  in  a  less  degree,  the  mischief  is  continually 
going  on.  Why  binders  should  be  so  fond  of 
cropping  is  hard  to  see,  but  in  intrusting  any 

37 


but  the  very  best  firms  with  a  book,  it  is  advis- 
able to  give  specific  directions  that  the  margins 
are  not  to  be  cut  at  all  or  to  exactly  what  di- 
mensions they  are  to  be  reduced.  In  the  case 
of  a  book  of  any  value  it  is  also  advisable  to 
give  express  directions  that  it  is  to  be  properly 
sewn,  and  that  its  back  and  its  head-band  are 
to  be  a  real  back  and  a  real  head-band,  and  not 
shams.  In  most  trade-bindings  the  leather 
back  plays  a  purely  ornamental  part,  and  the 
little  ridges  which  run  across  it  are  only  make- 
believe.  The  true  back  in  these  books  is  a 
piece  of  brown  paper,  and  the  cords  or  tapes 
over  which  the  sewing-threads  are  twisted, 
instead  of  standing  out  to  justify  the  ridges, 
are  sunk  in  little  trenches  sawn  in  the  back  of 
the  sheets  of  the  book,  much  to  their  detri- 
ment. These  "hollow -backs/'  as  they  are 
called,  were  introduced  because  of  the  difficulty 
of  making  a  book  printed  on  stiff  paper  open 
easily  if  properly  backed,  but  a  book  on  bad 
paper  is  not  worth  a  pretty  binding,  and  to 
bind  a  good  book  thus  is  an  insult.  All  the 
strain  in  opening  and  shutting  is  thrown  on 
the  joints,  with  the  result,  in  a  book  which  is 
much  used,  that  the  back  comes  off  bodily. 
Sham— that  is,  glued  on— head -bands  are 
equally  objectionable,  because  when  a  shelf 

38 


is  full  a  book  can  only  be  pulled  from  its  place 
by  the  head-band,  and  if  this  is  not  properly 
sewn  it  comes  off,  the  leather  of  the  back  has 
to  be  used  instead,  and  this  in  its  turn  speedily 
gets  torn  away.  My  pleasure  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  bound  volumes  of  the  Oxford 
English  Dictionary  is  largely  spoilt  by  the 
straits  to  which  I  am  reduced  every  time  I  use 
them.  These  large  books  have  hollow  backs, 
and  there  is  therefore  no  means  of  pulling 
them  out  from  the  shelf  without  risk  of  tear- 
ing off  the  leather.  The  only  way  to  get  at 
them  is  by  clearing  away  the  books  on  each 
side  so  as  to  be  able  to  take  them  by  the  mid- 
dle, though  even  this  involves  some  risk. 
Volumes  as  heavy  as  these  really  require  straps 
which  can  be  used  as  handles,  a  device  largely 
employed  at  the  British  Museum  in  the  case 
of  bound  volumes  of  the  Times  and  other 
newspapers. 

When  he  has  seen  that  his  books  have  real 
backs  and  real  head-bands,  the  book-lover's 
troubles  in  the  matter  of  binding  are  still  not 
at  an  end.  During  the  last  sixty  years  the  old 
slow  processes  of  tanning  leathers  have  been 
quickened  by  the  use  of  sulphuric  acid,  and 
various  mineral  dyes  are  employed  to  give 
brilliancy  to  the  colours  of  the  leathers  used 

39 


in  binding.  As  long  as  the  leathers  are  fresh 
and  moist  the  sulphuric  acid  is  held  in  solution, 
but  in  quite  a  few  years'  time  the  moisture  is 
dried  up,  and  the  acid  causes  the  leather  to 
crumble  away*  The  calf  bindings  of  the  six- 
teenth century  have  lasted  wonderfully,  but  all 
modern  calf  is  quite  useless  for  permanent 
binding,  and  morocco  and  pigskin  are  the  only 
leathers  now  obtainable  which  possess  any 
durability.  Brilliant  colours,  even  in  these, 
should  be  avoided,  and  not  all  of  the  plain 
browns  and  reds  are  above  suspicion.  Fortu- 
nately, since  a  committee  of  the  Society  of 
Arts  "on  Leather  used  for  Bookbinding"  issued 
its  very  useful  report  (obtainable  at  the  society's 
rooms,  John-street,  Adelphi,  for  a  shilling)  the 
tanners  have  been  aroused  to  the  dangers  of 
the  situation,  and  good  binders  in  their  turn 
are  making  much  more  serious  inquiry  than  of 
yore  into  the  quality  of  the  leathers  they  use. 
But  inasmuch  as  a  large  class  of  buyers  still 
prefer  the  unsound  but  showy  colours,  it  is 
advisable  that  the  book -lover  who  values 
durability  should  make  his  wishes  very  clearly 
understood.  As  already  mentioned  in  a  pre- 
vious chapter,  old  bindings  may  be  cleaned  and 
started  on  a  new  life  by  the  moisture  in  them 
being  renewed  with  a  dressing  of  furniture- 

40 


polish,  lightly  applied  and  quickly  wiped  clean. 
The  ideal  dressing  has  not  yet  been  discovered, 
but  any  polish  which  does  not  dry  quickly  is 
likely  to  be  at  least  a  palliative. 

From  the  evils  which  have  been  described 
most  book-buyers  are  preserved  by  the  mas- 
terly inactivity  which  leads  them  to  ignore  the 
binder's  art  altogether.  The  policy  is  unen- 
terprising, and  discourages  the  followers  of  a 
very  beautiful  and  useful  art  but  it  must  be 
owned  that  the  publishers'  "cases/'  with  which 
so  many  people  are  content  are  often  charm- 
ingly pretty,  and  that  those  in  cloth  or  in  good 
buckram  (cheap  buckram  soon  wears  thread- 
bare) possess  a  very  fair  degree  of  durability. 
Fancy  bindings  in  white  paper  or  parchment 
or  any  other  easily  soiled  material,  are  very 
alluring  when  the  shopman  takes  off  their 
grey  paper  covers  and  shows  them  as  they 
come  fresh  from  the  binder's;  but  unless  the 
paper  covers  are  always  to  be  kept  on,  which 
would  be  absurd,  they  require  to  be  housed 
and  handled  with  so  much  care  that  they  bring 
with  them  more  anxiety  than  joy.  If  I  may 
go  back  for  one  moment  to  leather  bindings,  I 
would  say  that  we  must  beware  of  the  same 
danger  in  these  also.  A  binding  so  dainty 
that  it  cannot  be  stood  on  a  shelf  without  the 

41 


protection  of  a  slip-case  or  box  may  well  ex- 
cite the  kind  of  contempt  which  Hamlet  felt 
for  Osric,  or  which  any  man  who  recognises 
that  there  is  work  to  do  in  the  world  feels  for 
a  mere  fop.  A  binding  should  protect  its 
book,  and  should  not  itself  need  protection. 
The  best  French  and  Italian  bindings  of  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  have 
gained  in  charm  when  they  have  been  freely 
handled  by  careful  owners,  and  ornament  so 
elaborate  or  so  delicate  that  it  cannot  stand 
this  is  quite  misplaced.  Nor  should  orna- 
ment ever  be  so  profuse  as  to  cover  too  large 
a  proportion  of  the  leather,  for  the  texture  of 
a  really  good  piece  of  leather  is  so  charming 
in  itself  that  it  needs  little  further  decoration. 
When  the  leather  is  bad,  or  doubtfully  leather 
at  all,  as  in  some  recent  imitations  of  old 
bindings,  profuse  gilding  is  a  merit,  since  it 
helps  the  deception.  But  with  these  imita- 
tion bindings,  which  vulgarise  and  degrade  old 
masterpieces,  no  true  lover  of  books  is  likely 
to  concern  himself. 

We  must  turn  now  from  the  clothes  of 
books  to  their  dwelling-rooms,  though  prac- 
tically all  there  is  to  say  on  this  subject  may 
be  summed  up  in  the  sentence  that  in  matters 
of  light,  temperature,  and  ventilation,  what  is 

42 


best  for  their  owner  will  mostly  be  best  for 
the  books.  Enough  light  to  keep  the  air 
sweet  and  clean,  enough  ventilation  to  avoid 
damp  or  the  dryness  of  artificially  heated 
rooms,  and  a  temperature  which  does  not  rise 
or  fall  too  suddenly,  these  are  all  requisites  in 
a  pleasant  living-room,  and  they  are  all  neces- 
sary for  the  proper  housing  of  books.  In  ask- 
ing for  light  it  must  be  remembered  that 
books,  like  most  human  beings,  though  they 
like  sunlight,  like  it  diffused  and  not  directly 
in  their  eyes.  Cloth  cases  and  leather  bind- 
ings on  which  the  sun  is  allowed  to  shine  for 
even  a  few  hours  a  day  rapidly  fade,  and  the 
leather  is  thought  not  only  to  fade  but  to  rot 
as  well,  as  if  (though  I  do  not  myself  believe 
this)  the  actinic  rays  were  directly  injurious  to 
it.  In  the  year  1903,  in  which  this  essay  is 
being  written,  this  danger  may,  of  course,  be 
disregarded,  and  it  is  more  to  the  point  to  con- 
sider whether,  as  a  precaution  against  floods, 
all  libraries  should  not  be  housed  on  the  first 
floor.  But  under  normal  conditions,  even  in 
England,  very  serious  mischief  may  be  done 
by  direct  sunlight,  and  I  know  of  one  library, 
formerly  noted  for  its  fine  bindings,  in  which 
the  reds  have  been  reduced  to  yellows  and  the 
browns  to  greys,  with  patches  of  their  origi- 

43 


nal  colours  remaining,  where  some  bar  had 
shielded  the  leather,  as  witnesses  of  the  havoc 
the  sun  has  wrought.  This  is  a  narrow  room 
lit  by  windows  in  a  gallery,  through  which  the 
sun  could  pour  down  at  ten  and  eleven  in  the 
morning,  when  nearly  at  its  greatest  intensity. 
Such  an  arrangement  is  not  likely  to  be  found 
in  many  houses,  but  it  suggests  that  broad, 
low  windows  are  better  in  libraries  than  high 
ones,  and  that  where  high  ones  are  a  necessity, 
it  may  be  well  (in  order  to  avoid  daily  manip- 
ulation of  blinds)  to  use  for  the  upper  panes 
pale  green  or  yellow  glass,  which  lessens  the 
force  of  the  sun's  rays.  It  may  be  gathered 
also  that  a  south  aspect  is  better  for  a  library 
than  a  west  one,  as  even  through  quite  low 
windows  the  afternoon  sun  will  shine  directly 
onto  the  books  ranged  on  the  opposite  wall. 

Heat,  especially  when  accentuated  by  im- 
purity in  the  air  caused  by  much  tobacco 
smoke,  or  by  that  now  disappearing  enemy, 
gas,  is  very  destructive  to  leather-bound  books. 
For  this  reason,  as  well  as  for  convenience, 
bookcases  should  not  be  much  more  than 
eight  feet  high,  as  the  air  of  a  room  is  always 
hottest  near  the  ceiling.  In  the  days  of  ad- 
venturous youth  I  used  to  enjoy  to  the  full 
the  delights  of  "open  access"  at  that  be- 

44 


neficent  institution  with  which  the  foresight 
of  Thomas  Carlyle  endowed  English  literary 
folk,  the  London  Library  (before  it  was  re- 
built), by  climbing  the  long  ladders,  meant 
only  for  the  staff,  and  roking  among  the  top 
shelves.  The  heat  at  those  top  shelves  and 
the  foulness  of  the  air  were  indescribable,  and 
the  old  bindings  certainly  showed  the  effect 
of  these  conditions.  The  ugliest  of  book- 
stacks  is  better  than  shelving  carried  to  the 
top  of  a  lofty  room. 

Excessive  sunlight  and  heat  are  injurious 
chiefly  to  bindings,  damp  on  the  other  hand 
is  destructive  to  the  books  themselves  as  well 
as  to  their  jackets,  foxing  the  plates  and  de- 
priving the  paper  of  the  size  which  keeps  it 
hard  and  strong.  Damp  is  also  a  more  subtle 
enemy  since  it  more  often  attacks  from  be- 
hind than  frontally,  and  glazing  may  only 
accentuate  the  harm.  If  books  smell  musty 
when  the  glass  doors  are  opened  it  is  time  to 
make  sure  that  damp  is  not  coming  through 
the  wall.  At  all  times  it  is  important  to  see 
that  a  glazed  bookcase  is  adequately  venti- 
lated. Otherwise,  when  the  temperature  falls, 
moisture  collects  on  the  inner  side  of  the 
glass,  and  this  may  be  quite  sufficient  to  do 
harm. 

45 


As  to  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of 
glass  fronts  much  might  be  written.  They 
are  almost  a  necessity  when  valuable  books 
have  to  be  housed,  merely  as  a  signal  to  igno- 
rant persons  that  they  really  are  valuable. 
But  precisely  because  glass  has  this  deterrent 
effect  it  destroys  the  homeliness  and  friendli- 
ness of  a  library,  and  in  the  country,  where 
dirt  is  so  much  less  poisonous  than  in  large 
cities,  it  should  be  dispensed  with  as  much  as 
possible.  Of  course,  if  a  country  house  has  a 
library  chimney  which  smokes,  then  glass  is  as 
needful  as  in  London,  Manchester,  or  any 
English  or  American  manufacturing  town,  but 
a  library  chimney  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to 
smoke.  Ordinary  dry  country  dust,  unless 
books  are  allowed  to  stand  gaping  on  the 
shelves,  does  very  little  harm.  Still,  it  is  well 
to  have  no  more  of  it  than  is  unavoidable, 
and  the  library  floor  should  never  be  carpeted 
all  over,  but  should  be  polished  and  covered, 
where  necessary,  with  rugs  that  can  be  taken 
away  and  cleaned  and  put  down  again  without 
any  dust  being  sent  flying  all  over  the  room. 

As  regards  bookshelves,  the  most  impor- 
tant recommendation  that  can  be  made  is  that 
they  should  be  easily  adjustable  to  any  sizes 
of  books  they  may  have  to  hold.  No  matter 


how  carefully  dimensions  are  calculated,  fixed 
shelves  are  a  constant  source  of  annoyance, 
and  nothing  looks  uglier  than  a  bookcase  in 
which  rows  of  small  books  are  standing  on 
shelves  much  too  tall  for  them,  while  else- 
where large  volumes  are  laid  on  their  sides  or 
their  fore  edges  because  they  have  not  space 
to  stand  upright*  Where  the  books  fit  well 
with  the  height  of  the  shelves  allotted  to  them 
there  is  no  need  to  use  "falls/*  which  often 
get  torn,  and  in  the  case  of  small  books  some- 
times hide  the  lettering.  In  place  of  falls 
some  careful  owners  lay  strips  of  brown  paper 
or  cloth  along  the  tops  of  their  books,  which 
can  be  taken  off  and  cleaned  as  often  as  neces- 
sary. They  certainly  save  the  tops  of  the 
books  from  dust,  but  if  they  are  to  look  tidy 
either  the  top  level  of  the  books  must  be 
uniform  all  along  the  shelf,  or  else  the  cloth 
must  be  weighted  with  shot  so  as  to  follow 
the  level  of  the  books  and  keep  its  position. 
It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  shelves  of  a 
bookcase  should  never  be  either  painted  or 
varnished,  as  it  is  impossible  to  prevent  a  book 
which  is  at  all  heavy,  or  which  stands  for  any 
time  in  the  same  place,  from  sticking  to  the 
shelf  if  the  shelf  offers  it  the  smallest  encour- 
agement to  do  so. 

47 


Lastly,  the  best  means  of  keeping  a  book  is 
to  read  it.  Mr.  Locker-Lampson,  who  first 
introduced  me  to  the  charm  of  old  books,  used 
to  tell  a  story  of  how,  for  some  small  imper- 
fection, he  once  took  back  a  rare  book  to  a 
famous  binder,  and  how  the  old  man  exam- 
ined the  faulty  cover,  and  then,  looking  at  the 
complainant  over  his  spectacles,  exclaimed  re- 
proachfully, "Why,  Mr.  Locker,  you've  been 
reading  it!"  It  was  a  good  story,  but  not  to 
the  old  binder's  credit,  for  careful  use  is  as 
good  for  a  book  as  moderate  exercise  for  a 
man's  body.  To  be  held  in  a  healthy  human 
hand  will  postpone  the  need  of  furniture  polish, 
the  dust  is  flicked  off,  the  damp  dispelled,  and 
every  book  on  the  shelf  is  the  better  for  the 
slight  stir  caused  if  only  a  single  volume  is  taken 
out  and  replaced.  Only  it  must  be  remembered 
that  the  most  forgiving  book  will  reap  but 
little  profit  from  its  jaunt  if  it  be  held  in  front 
of  the  fire,  laid  down  on  its  face  in  order  that 
the  reader's  "place"  may  not  be  lost,  dogs- 
eared  with  the  same  intent,  devoured  in  con- 
junction with  buttered  toast,  or  submitted  to 
the  last  and  worst  indignity  of  having  its  leaves 
turned  with  a  wetted  finger.  This  trick  is  so 
disgusting  that  an  apology  seems  required  for 
even  mentioning  it,  but  one  who  watches 


many  readers  knows  that  though  dying  out  it 
is  not  yet  extinct  and  that  more  especially  it 
clings  to  the  man  who  has  risen  in  the  world, 
when  every  other  trace  of  a  bad  education  has 
been  overcome.  All  such  disrespectful  tricks 
should  be  cured  early.  We  sometimes  treat 
books  too  superstitiously,  as  if  the  words  of  a 
silly  person  became  any  wiser  by  a  printer's 
time  having  been  wasted  over  them.  But  the 
worst  and  most  foolish  of  books  does  share  so 
far  in  the  divinity  of  the  noblest  that  until  the 
day  comes  for  it  to  be  pulped,  its  outward  form 
should  be  held  sacred. 


49 


IV.    ON  THE  FUNCTIONS  OF  THE 
COLLECTOR 

N  an  earlier  chapter  we 
have  incidentally  vindi- 
cated book-collectors 
from  the  charge  of  folly 
which  the  existence  of 
the  silly  word  "biblioma- 
nia," and  misunderstand- 
ing of  Sebastian  Brant's 
meaning  in  his  Narrenschiff,  have  caused  to 
be  brought  against  them.  Incidentally,  also, 
we  have  looked  at  the  effects  of  age,  rarity, 
and  some  other  causes  on  the  prices  of  old 
books.  But  up  to  this  point  we  have  been 
concerned  exclusively  with  the  book-buyer 
who  buys  to  read,  and  our  excursions  into  the 
theory  of  collecting  have  been  caused  only  by 
our  having  to  consider  the  case  of  the  reader 
of  modern  literature  who  finds  himself  pos- 

5' 


sessed  of  a  library  of  old  books  which  he  does 
not  know  what  to  do  with.  It  seems  worth 
while  now  to  devote  a  few  pages  to  a  talk 
about  collecting,  which  in  itself  is  quite  a  dif- 
ferent thing  from  the  formation  of  a  library, 
though  it  is  from  this  that  it  has  developed. 
That  the  development  is  a  natural  one  may  be 
argued  from  the  fact  that  it  has  occurred  more 
than  once.  There  were  collectors  very  much 
of  the  modern  kind  in  the  days  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  men  who  prided  themselves  not  so 
much  on  the  number  of  their  books  as  on  their 
beauty  and  fine  condition.  Despite  the  fact 
that  he  loved  "plenty,"  this,  indeed,  was  the 
attitude  of  Sebastian  Brant's  book-fool,  though 
his  folly  consisted,  not  in  the  fact  that  he  col- 
lected, but  in  his  confession,  "What  they 
mean  do  I  not  understand."  "But  yet,"  he 
says— 

"  But  yet  I  have  them  in  great  reverence 
And   honour,   saving   them   from   filth   and 

ordure, 

By  often  brushing  and  much  diligence. 
Full  goodly  bound,  in  pleasant  coverture 
Of  damask,  satin,  or  else  of  velvet  pure, 
I  keep  them  sure,  fearing  they  should  be  lost 
For  in  them  is  the  cunning  wherein  I  me  boast. 

5* 


But  if  it  fortune  that  any  learned  men 
Within  my  house  fall  to  disputation, 
I  draw  the  curtains  to  show  my  bookes  then 
That  they  of  my  cunning  should  make  proba- 
tion; 

I  keepe  not  to  fall  in  altercation; 
And  while  they  commune,  my  books  I  turn 

and  wind. 
For  all  is  in  them,  and  nothing  in  my  mind/' 

In  this  second  stanza  we  have  in  the  best 
verse  that  Alexander  Barclay,  Brant's  trans- 
lator, could  write,  the  common  gibe  of  schol- 
ars at  the  rich  man  who  buys  books  which 
they  would  like  themselves,  but  cannot  afford. 
Let  it  be  granted  that  the  gibe  is  not  unnat- 
ural. In  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries 
it  was  very  natural  indeed.  Despite  the  in- 
vention of  printing,  books  were  still  scarce 
and  expensive,  and  one  great  scholar,  Isaac 
Casaubon,  is  even  said  to  have  taken  to  him- 
self a  wife  in  order  to  obtain  access  to  his 
father-in-law's  library,  a  manoeuvre  which  met 
with  no  more  success  than  it  deserved.  Even 
to-day  the  grievance  of  the  poor  student  is 
not  quite  extinct.  I  have  been  trying  myself 
for  several  years  to  obtain  any  kind  of  a 
copy,  no  matter  how  imperfect,  of  the  1598 

53 


edition  of  Sidney's  Arcadia.  But  they  are  all 
in  collector's  libraries,  save  a  few  in  public 
ownership,  and  not  even  a  large  fragment  is 
obtainable.  Nevertheless  on  any  fair  balance 
the  debt  of  the  literary  student  to  the  antiqua- 
rian collector  is  beyond  all  calculation.  But 
for  him,  for  his  extravagance  in  buying  and 
care  in  keeping,  whole  sections  of  literature 
would  have  gone  out  of  existence  altogether, 
or  have  been  preserved  in  a  more  imperfect 
and  mutilated  form  than  is  the  case.  Students 
of  literature,  and  still  more  perhaps  the  pro- 
fessors of  it,  being  human,  are  as  subject  to 
the  influence  of  fashion  and  taste  as  the  most 
casual  subscribers  to  a  circulating-library,  and 
though  in  our  own  day  we  may  well  imagine 
that  there  is  no  period  of  literature  whose  least 
worthy  products  some  one  will  not  be  ready 
to  admire  and  exalt,  it  yet  remains  probable 
that  our  eyes  are  still  shut  to  some  beauties 
which  our  successors  will  be  able  to  perceive 
if  only  Time  be  not  allowed  to  sweep  the 
books  away  ere  the  generation  which  can  ad- 
mire them  is  born.  It  is  in  thus  resisting  the 
ravages  of  Time,  in  gleaning  where  he  seems 
to  have  done  his  worst,  that  the  collector  jus- 
tifies his  existence,  and  in  our  light-hearted 
talk  of  literary  immortality  we  often  forget 

54 


how  largely  this  immortality  depends  on  the 
good  will  of  antiquarian  collectors. 

Perhaps  the  arrogance  of  the  literary  critic 
was  never  more  strikingly  exemplified  than  in 
a  remark  of  the  late  Mr.  H.  D.  Traill  in  one  of 
the  early  numbers  of  "  Literature/'  a  weekly 
paper  begun  with  much  flourishing  of  trum- 
pets, but  which,  despite  Mr.  Traill's  possession 
of  most  of  the  gifts  of  a  literary  editor,  never 
thrived.  There  had  been  talk,  with  only  too 
much  reason,  of  the  badness  of  modern  paper, 
and  Mr.  Traill,  in  impulsive  contradiction,  la- 
mented that  any  paper  should  be  made  which 
could  last  more  than  a  century.  If  during  a 
hundred  years  no  one  cared  to  reprint  a  book, 
it  was  clearly  not  wanted,  and  that  libraries, 
public  or  private,  should  be  blocked  with  un- 
read books  was  purely  a  misfortune. 

So  in  the  mood  of  the  moment  wrote  Mr. 
Traill  who  could  well  afford  to  make  a  mis- 
take, and  the  mistake  was  indeed  worth  making, 
because  of  the  curious  results  of  an  examina- 
tion into  how  his  rule  would  have  worked 
had  it  been  made  retrospective.  Of  the  poets 
who  died  before  Charles  I.  was  king,  I  think 
only  Chaucer,  Spenser,  and  Shakespeare  would 
have  survived.  All  the  rest  would  have  suc- 
cumbed during  the  century  and  a  half  of  in- 

55 


difference  and  neglect  which  separates  Herrick's 
Hesperides  and  Noble  Numbers  from  the  Lyri- 
cal Ballads  of  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge. 
Herrick  himself  reappeared  in  1825.  Surrey 
and  Wyatt  were  edited  by  Dr.  Nott  in  1815, 
Gower's  Confessio  Amantis  by  Pauli  in  1857. 
Sidney's  Astrophel  and  Stella  was  brought  to 
life  with  his  other  shorter  works  in  1829.  ^s 
Arcadia,  which  retained  its  popularity  for  a 
century  and  a  hall  has  not  been  reprinted  in 
its  entirety  since  1739,  though  an  abridgment 
was  published  by  Hain  Friswell  in  1867,  and  a 
fac-simile  of  the  incomplete  first  edition  was 
edited  by  Dr.  H.  Oskar  Sommer  a  few  years 
ago.  The  length  of  the  Arcadia,  of  course, 
has  stood  in  its  way,  and  it  is  only  recently 
that  modern  publishers  have  plucked  up  heart 
to  attack  some  of  the  longer  masterpieces. 
The  translation  of  Frossart  by  Lord  Berners, 
which  by  Mr.  Traill's  rule  would  have  per- 
ished twice  over  between  Middleton's  edition 
in  the  sixteenth  century  and  the  reprint  of 
1812,  would  have  had  another  narrow  escape, 
since  eighty-nine  years  elapsed  between  this 
last  and  Professor  Ker's  edition  in  1901.  Hol- 
inshed  has  never  been  reprinted  in  full  since 
1587.  Hakluyt  has  fared  better,  and  even 
Perclas's  Pilgrims  are  now  to  reappear. 


Raleigh's  History  of  the  World  is  not  likely 
to  find  a  new  publisher,  and  even  Camden's 
(though  a  far  more  manageable  work)  has 
lacked  one  since  1635.  Thanks  to  Dodsley's 
Old  Plays,  etc.,  Elizabethan  dramatists  would 
have  survived  the  application  of  Mr.  Traill's 
rule  in  single  specimens,  but  no  new  collected 
editions  were  published  till  the  beginning  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  As  to  the  smaller 
men,  such  as  Nash,  Greene,  Lodge,  Breton, 
Churchyard,  and  many  others,  though  their 
names  are  enshrined  in  histories  of  literature, 
had  it  not  been  for  collectors  their  works  would 
have  perished  utterly. 

The  truth  which  has  been  illustrated  in  this 
haphazard  way  for  some  of  the  masterpieces 
of  English  literature  holds  equally  for  those  of 
any  other  country.  We  are  familiar  with  the 
long  sleep  of  the  classical  Greek  writers,  and 
the  ravages  wrought  during  it  with  their  works, 
but  we  hardly  realize,  perhaps,  how  much  of 
Latin  literature  survived  the  Middle  Ages  by 
the  "skin  of  its  teeth/'  Some  authors  now 
neglected  were  then  widely  read.  Seneca,  for 
instance,  and  Statius.  Others,  such  as  Virgil 
and  Ovid  have  enjoyed  continuous  vogue. 
But  Lucretius  and  Catullus  very  nearly  perished. 
Much  of  Livy,  we  know,  has  gone,  and  the 

57 


Annals  of  Tacitus  only  survived  under  circum- 
stances which  caused  the  finder  of  them  to  be 
branded  as  a  forger.  The  list  might  be  much 
extended,  and  it  is  a  striking  commentary  on 
the  narrowness  of  .modern  classical  scholarship 
that  many  minor  Greek  and  Latin  authors  can 
still  only  be  obtained  in  sixteenth-century 
editions,  zeal  in  reprinting  being  almost  en- 
tirely confined  to  Germany.  In  so  far,  then, 
as  the  lives  of  books  depend  upon  the  care  of 
the  professional  guardians  of  literature,  it  is 
evident  that  they  have  fared  badly  in  the  past, 
nor  can  we,  despite  our  modern  activity,  feel 
any  certainty  that  they  will  fare  superlatively 
well  in  the  future.  The  nineteenth  century  re- 
discovered Elizabethan  and  Jacobean  literature, 
and  rejoiced  to  reprint  it,  with  much  won- 
derment at  the  neglect  into  which  it  had  fallen. 
Possibly,  before  it  has  run  its  course,  the 
twentieth  century  may  rediscover  the  eigh- 
teenth, and  reprint  its  minor  poetry  with  as 
much  self-congratulation  as  we  have  felt  at 
the  recovery  of  Campion  and  the  other  song- 
writers of  his  day.  Meanwhile  it  is  the  function 
of  the  collector,  by  surveying  books  from  a 
different  standpoint,  to  lessen  the  risks  of  their 
going  out  of  existence  before  they  have  had 
their  second  chance.  It  may  be  granted  that, 

58 


if  large  funds  are  at  their  disposal,  this  function 
will  be  performed  still  better  by  great  libraries* 
But  the  modern  conception,  so  excellent  in 
itself,  of  a  library  as  a  literary  workshop  is 
not  likely  to  encourage  in  the  future  those  an- 
tiquarian tendencies,  which,  while  often  making 
librarians  of  the  old  school  churlish  to  their 
daily  visitors,  yet  helped  them  greatly  in  build- 
ing up  the  collections  which  are  now  our 
delight*  The  librarians  of  those  days  were  in 
fact  themselves  collectors,  nor  must  it  be  for- 
gotten that  it  is  to  the  bequests  of  individual 
book-hunters  that  the  great  historic  libraries 
now  owe  some  of  their  chief  attractions*  The 
Bodleian  Library,  which,  by  its  founder's  wish, 
paid  little  attention  to  the  "light  literature0  of 
the  great  period  amid  which  it  grew  up,  and 
which  turned  out  the  Shakespeare  Folio  of 
1623  when  it  obtained  a  later  edition,  would 
be  in  a  far  less  enviable  position  were  it  not 
for  the  splendid  bequests  of  Rawlinson,  Tanner, 
Malone  and  Donee.  Without  the  privately 
formed  collections  of  George  III.  and  Thomas 
Grenville,  even  the  £10,000  a  year  which  the 
British  Museum  for  half  a  century  had  to 
spend  on  books  would  have  been  unavailing 
to  supply  its  gaps.  The  private  collector  does 
indeed  reach  his  apotheosis  when  he  thus 

59 


gives  to  the  community  the  results,  not  only 
of  his  expenditure,  but  of  the  skill  and  judg- 
ment by  which  it  has  been  guided*  But  even 
if  he  shows  no  such  liberality,  he  is  still  a  most 
useful  factor  in  the  preservation  of  books. 
For  him  agents  traverse  Europe  in  search  of 
neglected  volumes;  it  is  the  memories  of  the 
high  prices  he  is  willing  to  give  that  stays  the 
destroyers'  hands;  it  is  by  his  care  that  soiled, 
fragile,  and  torn  leaves  are  cleaned,  and  sized, 
and  mended.  He  has  committed  many  crimes 
in  the  past.  He  commits  some  even  at  the 
present  day,  despite  all  attempts  at  guidance. 
To  please  his  pride,  his  Dogberry -like  deter- 
mination to  have  everything  handsome  about 
him,  countless  old  bindings  have  been  ripped 
off  to  be  replaced  by  new  morocco  bearing 
the  owner's  arms.  The  inoffensive  stains  of 
age  have  been  cleaned  away,  though  ink  and 
paper  both  suffer  in  the  process.  The  old  ar- 
rangements of  the  sheets  are  ignored  in  resew- 
ing,  and  two  or  more  slightly  imperfect  copies 
are  used  to  make  one,  so-called,  perfect  one, 
though  these  made-up  copies  smell  of  the 
hospital,  and  can  give  no  pleasure  to  any  justly 
fastidious  taste.  Yet  with  all  the  faults  for 
which  collectors  can  be  held  responsible,  they 
are  a  most  useful  race,  the  more  useful,  per- 

60 


haps,  in  proportion  as  the  books  they  collect 
are  more  remote  from  popular  tastes*  A  libra- 
rian who  has  done  splendid  service  in  spread- 
ing the  "workshop"  ideal  among  his  fellows 
complained  the  other  day  that  we  know  more 
about  the  books  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
the  printers  of  them,  than  about  those  of  our 
own  day.  It  was  a  splendid  testimonial  to  the 
antiquarian  zeal  of  collectors  and  students  of 
this  branch  of  bibliography.  For  the  ordinary 
book-buyer  to  keep  books  which  he  never  has 
read  and  never  will  read  is  useless  and  waste- 
ful. They  cumber  his  shelves  and  help  to  give 
him  a  distaste  for  reading  altogether.  But  to 
have  the  same  books  regarded  from  another 
standpoint  by  a  collector  who  can  form  friend- 
ships with  them  on  other  grounds,  this  is  a 
real  advantage  to  the  community,  and  one  that 
excuses  many  occasional  errors  and  extrava- 
gances. 


61 


V.    HOW  TO  COLLECT 


NY  one  who  finds  him- 
self buying  a  book,  new 
or  old,  for  any  other  rea- 
son than  a  desire  to  read 
it  will  do  well  to  ask 
himself,  as  speedily  as 
possible,  what  aim  he  has 
in  view.  To  buy  books 
except  for  the  sake  of  reading  them  constitutes 
the  buyer,  though  by  a  single  instance,  a  col- 
lector, and  to  collect  aimlessly  is  a  mere  waste 
of  money,  and  possibly  also  of  time.  Col- 
lecting may  begin  in  the  humblest  and 
most  insidious  of  ways.  If  I  buy  a  book,  of 
which  I  already  possess  a  reasonably  good 
edition,  merely  because  it  is  prettily  printed,  I 
have  to  confess  to  myself  that  I  do  it  because 
I  am  tempted  to  become  a  collector  of  speci- 
mens of  fine  printing.  As  it  is  a  little  danger- 

63 


ous  for  literary  folk  with  children  to  educate 
to  collect  anything  at  all  I  try  to  compromise 
by  getting  rid  of  the  less  attractive  edition 
every  time  I  buy  a  prettier  one*  But  this  is 
only  a  ruse  which  would  not  even  deceive  the 
lady  who  shares  the  educational  responsibility 
aforesaid,  did  she  require  deceiving*  Her  own 
temptations  lie  in  the  not  very  expensive  di- 
rection of  all  the  editions  of  Jane  Austen's 
novels  that  have  ever  been  printed*  This  is  a 
rather  common  form  of  introduction  to  book- 
collecting,  and  only  becomes  dangerous  when 
the  writer  selected  began  inconveniently  early* 
The  late  Mr*  R.  C*  Christie,  a  genuine  scholar 
and  collector,  had  a  special  fondness  for 
Horace,  and  brought  together  over  eight  hun- 
dred different  editions*  Another  book-lover, 
Mr,  Waterton,  collected  all  the  editions  of  the 
Imitatio  Christi  which  he  could  acquire,  and 
at  the  time  of  his  death,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
possessed  over  thirteen  hundred  of  them* 
All  of  these  not  already  on  its  shelves  were 
purchased  by  the  British  Museum,  and  the 
fact  that  the  whole  of  the  Museum  collection, 
thus  reinforced,  passed  through  my  hands 
during  the  process  of  recataloguing  did  not 
diminish  the  distaste  I  have  always  felt  for 
this  particular  form  of  collecting.  In  it,  as  a 


rule,  the  individual  books  become  mere  ciphers, 
interesting  not  for  their  own  sake,  but  as 
proving  the  comparative  popularity  of  the 
work  in  different  countries  and  at  different 
times,  and  this  only  in  a  rough  and  ready 
fashion,  since  the  number  of  editions  is  a  poor 
guide  unless  we  also  know  the  size  of  them. 
In  any  case,  a  list  of  the  edition  tells  the  tale 
as  well  as,  or  better  than,  the  books  them- 
selves, and  the  collector's  mission  sinks  to  that 
of  providing  the  raw  material  for  the  bibli- 
ographer. Where  the  author  of  a  book  has 
not  lived  so  inconveniently  early  as  S.  Thomas 
a  Kempis,  or  where  only  editions  printed 
within  his  century  are  collected,  the  task  is 
less  burdensome,  and  more  remunerative* 
Thus  Mr.  Wise,  Mr.  Buxton  Foreman,  Mr. 
Gosse,  and  others  have  done  excellent  work  in 
bringing  to  light  the  stray  printing  of  various 
English  writers  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
though  they  have  also  all  yielded  to  the  temp- 
tation to  create  artificial  rarities  by  obtaining 
leave  to  print  various  small  pieces  in  private 
editions,  an  amusement  which  recalls  some  of 
the  special-stamp  issues  of  insignificant  gov- 
ernments. 

If  in  this  one  direction  a  form  of  book- 
collecting  which  starts  from  the  collector's 


own  literary  tastes  may  lead  to  doubtful  re- 
sults, the  fact  remains  that  it  is  by  following 
their  own  tastes  that  collectors  are  most 
likely  to  promote  the  cause  of  learning  and 
literature.  The  student  possessed  of  a  wide, 
or  even  a  moderate,  knowledge  of  his  own 
special  subject,  by  turning  his  attention  to  the 
books  illustrating  the  history  of  its  develop- 
ment may  do  work  which  no  librarian  and  no 
bibliographer  as  such  can  possibly  emulate. 
The  philological  works  brought  together  by 
Prince  Lucien  Bonaparte,  the  library  of  polit- 
ical economy  amassed  by  Professor  Foxwell, 
are  two  examples  that  have  attracted  notice 
of  recent  years,  of  the  admirable  results  at- 
tained by  this  expert  collecting  of  this  kind. 
It  is  only  fair,  however,  to  add  that  its  pecu- 
niary results  are  exceptionally  hazardous.  Un- 
less a  fund  can  be  raised  to  buy  the  collection 
for  presentation  to  some  new  institution  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  dispose  of,  even  at  a  sac- 
rifice, without  division,  and  this  though  it  does 
not  really  diminish  its  usefulness,  is  a  sad 
alternative  as  seeming  to  deprive  the  collector 
of  the  legitimate  monument  of  his  skill. 

On  a  small  scale,  and  for  collectors  who  will 
not  allow  themselves  to  pay  too  heavily  in  the 
struggle  towards  the  completeness  which  can 

66 


never  be  attained,  subject-collecting  is  the 
easiest,  the  cheapest,  and  the  most  obviously 
rational  form  the  pleasure  can  take.  It  is  also 
probably  the  most  popular,  as  witness  the 
great  rise  in  the  prices  of  old  books  on  gar- 
dening, sport,  costume,  cookery,  and  other  sub- 
jects in  which  interest  is  widely  diffused.  The 
newcomer  who  wishes  to  walk  along  these 
paths  will  need  a  fairly  long  purse,  but  the 
variety  of  subjects  is  endless,  and  there  are 
still  plenty  in  which  books  may  be  bought 
cheaply  enough. 

When  we  pass  from  collecting  books  for 
their  subjects  to  collecting  them  for  their  out- 
ward form  we  pass  into  a  much  more  limited 
hunting-ground,  and  yet  one  which  has  been 
worked  with  a  curious  lack  of  system.  Am- 
ateurs of  the  historical  side  of  printing  have, 
indeed,  been  systematic  enough  in  searching 
some  small  corners  of  the  field,  as  is  testified 
by  the  complaint  already  quoted,  that  the  his- 
tory of  the  presses  of  the  fifteenth  century  is 
better  known  than  that  of  those  of  our  own 
day.  But  the  later  history  of  printing  is  almost 
entirely  neglected,  to  the  distinct  disadvantage 
of  learning,  since  as  long  as  printers  are  inter- 
mediaries between  authors  and  readers  a 
knowledge  of  their  ways  in  each  generation 


may  at  any  moment  be  of  use  in  deciding  lit- 
erary problems. 

On  its  aesthetic  side  also  the  collection  of 
specimens  of  printing,  as  such,  has  been  too 
much  confined  to  very  early  books.  Good 
work  was  proportionally  more  plentiful  in  the 
fifteenth  century  than  it  has  been  since,  but 
there  was  plenty  also  of  bad  even  in  those 
days,  and  at  least  some  good  in  almost  every 
generation  from  then  till  now.  Mr.  R.  G 
Christie,  whose  Horace  collection  I  have  al- 
ready mentioned,  turned  his  attention  also  to 
the  output  of  the  Lyonnese  presses  of  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  Owens 
College,  Manchester,  has  been  enriched  by  a 
very  charming  collection  as  a  result  of  his 
hobby.  It  is  astonishing  to  me  that  no  English 
or  American  book-lover  has  set  himself  to 
acquire  the  books  printed  by  the  Chiswick 
Press,  which  would  illustrate  the  history  of 
nineteenth- century  printing  at  its  best,  and 
form  a  most  amusing  and  interesting  series. 
That  any  printer  or  publisher  can  abstain 
from  seeking  representative  specimens  of  fine 
book-making  at  different  periods  seems  to  me 
curiously  foolish.  The  experiments  of  his 
predecessors  must  surely  be  not  only  of  inter- 
est, but  of  commercial  value,  and  his  own 

68 


possession  of  some  expert  knowledge  ought  to 
enable  him  to  expend  to  the  best  advantage  a 
couple  of  hundred  pounds  in  acquiring  half 
as  many  representative  specimens.  The  sum 
named  may  seem  surprisingly  small  but  when 
literary  value  and  rarity  are  set  aside,  good 
printing  of  itself  is  not  at  present  excessively 
priced  in  the  book-market  and  bargains  may 
still  be  made. 

When  we  turn  from  the  printing  of  books 
to  their  illustration  we  find  the  same  excessive 
competition  for  the  earliest  specimens,  in  which 
it  must  be  confessed,  though  they  are  my  own 
particular  hobby,  that  the  cuts  are  often  more 
quaint  than  beautiful  Later  work  is  com- 
paratively neglected,  and  offers  a  fine  opportu- 
nity for  a  collector  blessed  with  good  taste  to 
bring  together  a  charming  series  of  specimens 
at  a  cost  not  exceeding  what  he  might  have  to 
pay  for  even  two  or  three  masterpieces  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  The  books  with  illustra- 
tions on  copper,  set  in  with  the  text,  though 
of  course  by  a  separate  impression,  which 
ousted  the  old  woodcuts  from  popular  favor 
during  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
may  be  recommended  to  the  judicious  pur- 
chaser, and  good  English  work  of  the  succeed- 
ing century,  unless  in  the  form  of  frontispieces 


to  literary  rarities,  does  not  yet  command  an 
excessive  price.  The  French  illustrated  books 
of  the  eighteenth  century  are  much  more  ex- 
pensive, since  they  have  long  been  prized  by 
collectors,  who  have  carried  the  fashion  of 
extra -illustrating  with  proof  impressions  or 
suppressed  plates,  to  extreme  lengths.  It  must 
be  said,  also,  that  many  of  these  livres  a  vi- 
gnettes are  more  fit  for  the  top  shelf  or  the 
locked  cabinet  than  for  the  drawing-room  ta- 
ble, and  reflect  more  credit  on  the  skill  of  the 
artist  than  on  his  sense  of  decency  or  that  of 
his  employers.  The  English  barons  of  this 
period,  often  illustrated  by  French  artists,  are 
free  from  this  defect,  but  have  less  artistic 
merit,  while  the  custom  of  "hot-pressing"  then 
prevalent  in  England  has  frequently  caused 
"foxing,"  a  calamity  easily  evaded  by  the  rich 
collector  who  can  pick  his  copies,  but  which 
produces  great  disappointment  to  less  wealthy 
book-hunters.  To  these  copper  engravings 
succeeded  the  woodcuts  and  illustrations  of  the 
school  of  Bewick,  and  then  the  wonderful  steel- 
plate  engravings  after  designs  by  Turner  and 
other  artists.  Collectors  who  turn  their  atten- 
tion to  any  of  these,  though  they  raise  prices, 
will  yet  confer  genuine  benefits  on  the  histo- 
rians of  English  book-work,  since  for  lack  of 

70 


eager  purchasers  it  is  to  be  feared  that  many 
of  the  books  are  going  out  of  existence,  and  in 
a  short  time  no  proper  record  of  them  will  be 
obtainable. 

During  recent  years  a  steady  effort  has  been 
made  to  interest  collectors  in  the  books  illus- 
trated by  English  artists  in  the  '6o's,  but  fine 
as  the  woodcuts  often  are  in  design,  and  some- 
times also  in  execution,  no  great  success  has 
attended  their  attempts,  because  the  print,  pa- 
per, and  ornaments  by  which  the  pictures  are 
accompanied  are  so  wretchedly  poor  as  to  spoil 
the  pleasure  a  book-lover  would  naturally  take 
in  the  pictures  themselves. 

Books  remarkable  for  excellence  in  their 
ornamental  borders  and  initials  form  another 
group  which  invite  the  attention  of  judicious 
collectors.  There  is  a  great  tendency  now  to  im- 
itate to  the  point  of  weariness  a  few  fifteenth- 
century  border-pieces  and  initial  letters  to 
which  attention  has  been  drawn.  It  would  be 
better  if  our  book-artists  tried  to  work  with  ori- 
ginality on  the  same  lines  as  the  old  craftsmen, 
instead  of  slavishly  copying  their  work.  But  if 
old  work  is  to  be  imitated,  a  wider  knowledge 
of  it  must  be  desired,  and  collectors  might  help 
this  by  gathering  representative  specimens  and 
giving  little  exhibitions  at  their  clubs. 

71 


One  special  class  of  initial  letter,  though  by 
no  means  to  be  imitated,  cries  aloud  for  a  col- 
lector on  account  of  its  curiosity.  About 
1540,  or  perhaps  a  little  earlier,  some  Vene- 
tian publishers  began  to  ornament  their  books 
with  initials  designed  on  the  plan  of  the 
rhymes,  "A  was  an  Archer  who  shot  at  a 
frog,  B  was  a  Butcher  who  had  a  great  dog/' 
so  dear  to  our  childhood.  In  books  on  sacred 
subjects,  A  might  show  Abraham  sacrificing 
his  son,  B  Balaam  and  his  ass,  C  Cain,  and 
so  on.  These  designs  are  mostly  fairly  easily 
explained,  though  it  is  sometimes  necessary  to 
remember  that  the  forms  of  scripture  names 
prevalent  in  Italy  in  the  sixteenth  century  dif- 
fer from  those  with  which  we  are  familiar. 
The  mythological  sets  are  much  more  diffi- 
cult, and  I  have  often  thought  of  reproducing 
a  dozen  of  them  and  offering  a  prize  for  the 
best  guesses.  The  books  in  which  these  in- 
itials occur  are  mostly  quite  cheap,  and  a  col- 
lection of  them  would  be  very  amusing. 

Such  are  some  of  the  forms  which  col- 
lecting might  profitably  take  in  the  hands  of 
amateurs  of  the  outward  form  of  books,  who 
have  sufficient  good  taste  to  distinguish  good 
work  from  bad,  or  sufficient  interest  in  the 
history  of  printing  to  care  to  epitomize  it  in  a 

72 


collection  in  which  the  bad  work  of  each  cen- 
tury should  be  represented  as  well  as  the  good. 
Other  accidents  in  the  lives  of  books  have 
sometimes  attracted  special  students.  There 
are  those  who  have  collected  books  that  have 
been  condemned  by  the  Inquisition  or  other 
censors,  books  written  in  prison,  books  dedi- 
cated to  famous  persons,  or  books  printed 
(mostly  until  recent  days  very  badly)  at  pri- 
vate presses.  To  enumerate  all  the  possible 
characteristics  which  have  allured  collectors  is 
no  part  of  our  task.  Practically  all  collecting 
is  good  if  it  have  a  definite  aim,  which  leads 
the  collector  to  rescue  books  from  destruction, 
and  add  to  knowledge  by  classifying  and  cata- 
loguing them.  The  positive  results  may  not 
always  be  great,  even  relatively;  may  some- 
times seem  small  indeed;  but  the  joy  of  the 
hunt  is  perennial,  and  this  is  the  collector's 
chief  reward. 


73 


VL    THE  CHILD'S  BOOKSHELF 


N  essay  on  Books  in  the 
home  would  be  very  in- 
complete without  a  few 
words  on  those  often  rag- 
ged, mostly  untidy,  shelves 
on  which  boys  and  girls, 
as  soon  as  they  have 
learned  to  read,  begin  to 
place  their  poor  literary  treasures.  If  educa- 
tion means  anything,  this  foot  or  two  of  shelv- 
ing is  just  the  most  important  thing  in  the 
whole  house,  for  on  it  more  than  on  anything 
else  depends  what  will  be  the  child's  tastes  in 
after  life.  Yet  in  this  matter  parents  often 
show  a  most  strange  and  culpable  indiffer- 
ence. Books,  we  said  at  the  outset  of  this 
little  essay,  must  be  our  friends.  No  other 
relation  between  us  and  them  (save  in  the 
case  of  mere  works  of  reference)  can  be  per- 

75 


manently  profitable.  Now,  when  we  are 
grown  up  the  right  to  choose  our  own  friends 
is  one  of  the  most  precious  of  human  prerog- 
atives. But  while  we  are  still  young  if  our 
child's  library  is  to  wait  until  the  stream  of 
folly  has  run  dry  it  may  wait  long  indeed. 
Taking  things  as  they  are,  two  suggestions  may 
be  offered  which  will  perhaps  prove  useful. 
In  the  first  place,  let  donors  of  books  be  very 
slow  indeed  to  put  inscriptions  in  them;  and 
secondly  let  there  be  in  each  house  a  general 
children's  library,  in  addition  to  the  bookshelf 
which  each  child  regards  as  peculiarly  its  own. 
The  thread  which  links  these  two  suggestions 
is  the  idea  put  in  the  forefront  of  this  article, 
that  any  library  worthy  of  the  name  must  be  the 
result  of  individual  choice,  and  that  the  exercise 
of  this  power  of  choice  cannot  be  begun  too 
early.  Now,  to  the  free  exercise  of  choice, 
more  especially  in  the  case  of  an  affectionate 
child,  inscriptions  offer  a  great  obstacle.  I 
have  books  on  my  own  shelves  now  which  I 
have  never  read  and  never  shall  read,  but 
which  I  cannot  bear  to  part  with,  because  they 
carry  on  their  fly-leaves  the  names  of  dearly 
loved  doners  who  made  these  mistakes  in  their 
Christmas  or  birthday  presents.  The  books 
they  gave  me  which  I  really  liked  are,  alas ! 

76 


mostly  gone,  thumbed  to  pieces  with  a  child's 
carelessness.  Only  these  indigestible  pieces 
remain,  and  I  would  gladly  burn  them  if  I 
could  do  so  reverently.  But  no  one  who  has 
not  tried  to  burn  a  book  can  have  any  idea  of 
how  difficult  a  feat  it  is,  and  to  do  it  rever- 
ently is  impossible,  except  in  a  crematorium. 
Our  remote  forefathers  used  to  burn  or  bury 
with  the  dead  the  possessions  which  they  had 
held  dear  in  life.  From  a  different  motive  I 
should  like  these  poor  relics  to  perish  with  me. 
To  expect  my  children  to  house  them  for  the 
reasons  that  I  do  would  be  exacting;  but  that 
they  should  appear  in  the  Fourpenny  Box  with 
their  inscriptions  erased  or  torn  out  seems  an 
impiety.  Let  the  book-giver  have  a  thought 
for  these  difficulties.  "If  you  like  the  book 
very  much,  a  year  hence  I  will  write  your 
name  in  it;  if  not,  do  what  you  like  with  it." 
Surely  this  would  be  a  wise  saying.  The  un- 
favoured books  might  remain  awhile  in  the 
general  stock  and  then  be  weeded  out.  If  it 
can  be  done  in  honest  good  will,  they  should 
be  passed  on  to  other  children;  if  not,  there  is 
always  the  paper-maker  to  give  them  a  fresh 
chance  of  usefulness. 

The  general  library  in  the  nursery  or  school- 
room should  'not  be  confined  to  these  experi- 

77 


mental  presents.  Into  it  the  wise  parent  will 
place  from  time  to  time,  without  much  com- 
ment, plenty  of  miscellaneous  books  on  which 
young  readers  may  browse  with  advantage, 
and  when  a  book  has  been  read  and  honestly 
liked,  the  reader  may  well  be  allowed  to  ap- 
propriate it.  In  this  way  and  with  the  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest  among  the  gift-books  the 
child's  private  bookshelf  will  gradually  become 
tenanted.  Yet  these  two  sources  of  increase 
may  well  be  supplemented  by  a  third.  From 
among  the  books  read  aloud  to  them  by  their 
elders,  from  those  they  meet  with  in  the 
houses  of  friends,  from  those  recommended 
by  really  careful  guides  with  a  knowledge  of 
individual  tastes  and  capacities,  there  must  be 
some  which  a  boy  or  girl  will  feel  a  real  desire 
to  buy,  and  as  they  reach  years  of  what  may 
be  called  "minor  discretion/'  at  ten,  twelve,  or 
fourteen,  according  to  their  development,  to 
give  the  boy  or  girl  a  dollar  every  three  months 
specifically  to  buy  books  with,  is  the  best  pos- 
sible educational  investment.  The  choice  may 
be  very  gently  criticised,  but  it  should  be  left 
as  free  as  possible,  or  the  value  of  the  experi- 
ence will  be  half  destroyed. 

It  is  inevitable  that  our  friends  should  to 
some  extent  be  chosen  for  us,  or  rather  that 

78 


our  power  of  choice  should  be  limited  to  se- 
lection from  among  companions  presented  to 
us  by  authority*  Unfortunately  in  the  matter 
of  book-friends  authority  is  very  lightly  as- 
sumed and  very  carelessly  exercised.  If  an 
uncle  or  aunt  or  any  other  well-meaning  per- 
son sent  boys  or  girls  to  play  with  our  children 
with  all  the  forms  of  a  personal  recommenda- 
tion, but  really  without  taking  any  trouble  to 
find  out  what  their  influence  would  be  likely 
to  be,  we  should  strongly  resent  it.  Yet 
Christmas  after  Christmas  books  are  sent  to 
children,  with  inscriptions  expressive  of  love 
and  affection,  the  donors  having  never  read  a 
chapter  of  them,  but  having  chosen  them 
solely  on  the  ground  of  a  taking  title  or  pretty 
pictures.  The  mischief  thus  wrought  is  really 
great.  We  wonder  at  the  force  of  tradition 
in  schools,  and  yet  what  boy  goes  to  school 
without  having  had  books  given  him  to  read 
in  which  schoolmasters  are  treated  as  his 
natural  enemies,  often  as  "cads"  or  "sneaks," 
and  the  piggishness  of  the  dormitory  supper  is 
held  up  as  the  height  of  bliss?  Or,  again, 
how  much  nonsense  is  put  into  girls'  heads 
by  love-stories  with  heorines  of  sixteen,  or  by 
weakly  religious  tales  exhibiting  a  combina- 
tion of  theoretical  humility  with  gross  spiritual 

79 


self-consciousness,  which  is  only  too  easily 
imitated?  If  donors  will  not  take  the  trouble 
to  read  the  books  they  give  away  they  might 
minimise  their  risks  by  choosing  those  which 
other  people  have  read  and  approved.  There 
are  plenty  of  bad  books  which  reach  second 
editions,  but  books  which  appear  a  second  and 
third  year  upon  the  market  are  not  likely  to  be 
among  the  worst  and  if  anything  can  be  done 
to  lessen  the  craze  for  novelty  it  will  be  some- 
thing to  the  good.  George  Henty  had  no 
small  gifts  as  a  story-teller,  but  to  make  an 
income  he  had  to  turn  out  his  three  books 
every  year,  and  even  then  could  have  made 
but  a  poor  one  had  not  the  boys  and  girls  of 
America  reinforced  his  English  readers.  What 
wonder  that  his  plots  became  mechanical  and 
his  style  ragged?  Lazy  book-buyers  have  no 
right  to  be  adventurous.  They  should  leave 
the  newest  books  to  donors  who  will  take 
some  trouble,  and  who  are  rich  enough,  if  they 
find  they  have  made  a  mistake,  to  put  a  bad 
book  in  the  fire  instead  of  giving  it  away.  It 
may  be  said  in  passing  that  there  would  sel- 
dom be  need  to  take  such  a  course  if  reviewers 
of  Christmas  books  were  decently  consci- 
entious and  courageous  enough  to  exact  a 
reasonably  high  standard.  Here  again  the 

80 


craze  for  novelty  is  disastrous.  The  crowd  o£ 
new  books  is  so  great  that  a  dozen  have  to  be 
noticed  in  a  column.  To  read  a  book  of  400 
pages  carefully  enough  to  give  an  honest  ver- 
dict on  it  to  compress  this  verdict  into  ten  or 
twelve  lines  which  have,  if  possible,  to  be 
made  amusing,  and  then  to  receive  three  or 
four  shillings  as  your  wage,  is  very  poor  busi- 
ness. Yet  these  are  the  conditions  under 
which  the  bulk  of  Christmas  books  are  re- 
viewed in  the  very  best  newspapers,  and  the 
fault  does  not  rest  with  editors,  but  must  be 
shared  between  the  public  and  the  publishers 
who  both  are  crazy  for  novelties. 

There  remains  the  material  question— given 
the  child's  library  or  bookshelf,  where  is  it  to 
be  placed?  The  answer  to  this  is  unluckily 
rather  difficult.  If  it  is  in  the  same  room  as 
the  general  stock,  the  two  are  certain  to  get 
mixed,  and  with  the  invasion  of  the  private 
shelf  by  alien  volumes  all  pride  and  pleasure  in 
it  are  like  to  disappear.  On  the  other  hand, 
to  books  in  bedrooms,  until  the  age  of  measles, 
mumps,  and  chicken-pox  is  passed,  there  are 
very  strong  objections.  In  some  houses  a  land- 
ing outside  the  bedroom  may  offer  a  safe,  if 
rather  cold  and  unindividual,  site  for  a  simple 
bookcase.  In  other  homes  a  nook  may  be 

81 


found  for  it  in  a  morning-room,  or  any  place 
to  which  the  owner  may  have  free  access. 
Only  the  nook,  if  in  a  frequented  room,  should 
be  as  inconspicuous  as  possible,  lest  the  shelf 
attract  too  much  attention  and  a  habit  of  mind 
be  cultivated  which  might  lead  to  the  acquisi- 
tion of  the  Best  Hundred  Books.  Where  ex- 
pense forms  no  great  obstacle  the  glazed  single 
shelves,  which  can  be  built  up,  as  more  are 
acquired,  into  a  fairly  handsome  bookcase,  have 
many  advantages.  But  the  housing  must  never 
be  allowed  to  be  more  important  than  the  books, 
and  any  ostentation  should  be  quietly  discour- 
aged. 

With  a  little  care,  a  little  watchfulness,  and 
at  the  same  time  a  little  self-denial  on  the  part 
of  would-be  advisers  too  much  inclined  to  force 
a  child's  taste  instead  of  allowing  it  to  develop 
naturally,  the  bookshelf  thus  formed  in  early 
days  will  become  the  forerunner  of  many 
others,  and  the  habit  of  bookbuying  begun  un- 
der these  conditions  will  probably  remain 
through  life.  After  all,  it  is  a  good  habit. 
Even  when  it  becomes  unusually  pronounced 
it  may  coexist,  as  in  the  classic  case  of  Arthur 
Pendennis,  with  other  expensive  tastes,  but 
more  often  it  takes  the  place  of  them,  and  the 
number  of  people  who  have  ruined  themselves 

82 


by  bookbuying  is  probably  even  smaller  than 
that  of  the  few,  of  whom  we  sometimes  hear 
too  much,  who  have  found  it,  pecuniarily,  a 
good  investment.  Nor  surely  was  the  need  of 
a  love  of  literature,  and  all  that  literature  car- 
ries with  it,  ever  more  urgent  than  in  the 
present  day,  when  enormous  wealth  is  so  lightly 
acquired,  and  the  man  who  has  the  money- 
making  instinct  may  find  himself  at  middle  age 
possessed  of  a  power  compared  to  which  that 
of  the  medieval  baron,  with  his  private  gallows, 
was  but  a  trifle.  In  the  early  days  of  "Popular 
Educators"  reading  was  advertised  as  a  panacea 
against  poverty;  there  is  as  much  need  of  it 
nowadays  as  a  guide  to  the  right  use  of  wealth, 
nor  is  it  possible  too  early  or  too  earnestly  to 
take  thought  that  a  child  shall  be  led  to  the 
best  culture  to  which,  by  natural  development, 
boy  or  girl  can  attain. 


This  edition  of  "  Books  in  the  House"  con- 
sists of  500  copies  on  hand-made  paper  8$  10 
on  Imperial  Japan  Parchment. 

Designed  by  6i  printed  under  the  supervis- 
ion of  Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour  at  the  press  of 
R.  R.  Donnelley  65  Sons  Co.,  in  Chicago,  for 
the  publishers, 

The  Bobbs- Merrill  Company, 
Indianapolis,  Ind.,  U.  S.  A. 


U  N  [  \  .  A 


